Strolling across the sky
by Wandering outlaw
Summary: With the World Eater slain, and the Civil War back in full swing, the Dragonborn shall walk the endless path to amass the greatest collection of iron daggers Nirn has ever known. Join Dragonborn Amalia Farseer and her ever loyal (and beleaguered) follower, Lydia the Housecarl. The two of them shall brave Skyrim's many perils, from scary bears to guards with knee problems.
1. Beware, beware the Dragonborn comes

Setting himself down on the cliff balcony, Rintun set himself up with a nice book, _The Lusty Argonian Maid. _A boys were hauling in loads of loot and slaves. Yep, things were looking pretty good right now. There was even talk the Dragonborn had saved the world, so hey, no more worrying about that. Things could coast along easy like and he could retire. So now, the bandit chief was allowing himself a nice break. Have some mead, enjoy the clouds passing on by, recount how many gold pieces he looted. You know, gotta enjoy the little things.

A small rumble from the caverns behind him. His base was located in a mountain not that far from Whiterun. Had a nice view of it too. For some strange reason, he had found it belonging to another bandit crew. Most of them were dead by the time his crew had got there, but hey, free base.

It was probably his crew moving some of the heavier loot around and dropping it. They had raided a caravan the other day, they were still sorting all the stuff they had. Clumsy sods, the lot of them. Still, loyal enough. Stupid as all hell, but loyal.

Opening his book, he settled on his last page.

**Act IV, Scene III, Continued.**

_Lifts-Her-Tail_

"_Certainly not, kind sir! I am here but to clean your chambers._

_Crantius Colto_

_Is that all you have come here for little one? To clean my chambers?_

_Lifts-Her-Tail_

_I have no idea what it is you imply, master. I am but a poor Argonian maid._

_Crantius Colto_

_So you are, my dumpling. And a good one at that. Such strong legs and shapely tail._

Huh, the sound was getting louder now. Were they moving it upstairs? Oh well, it was probably nothing.

_Lifts-Her-Tail_

_You embarrass me sir!_

_Crantius Colto_

_Fear Not. You are safe here with me._

_Lifts-Her-Tail_

_I must finish my cleaning, sir. The mistress will have my head if I do not!_

_Crantius Colto_

_Cleaning, eh? I have something for you. Here, polish my spear._

Okay, it was really getting louder now. What was going on down there? Where they moving boulders or something?

_Lifts-Her-Tail_

_But it is huge! It could take me all night!_

_Crantius Colto_

_Plenty of time my sweet, plenty of_

"FUS RO DAH!"

Odd, was he supposed to feel weightless? And was was he facing the mountain, not Whiterun? And why was the ground moving that much closer to him?

* * *

"Annnd it's good!" Throwing her hands up into the air, a short, petite Breton woman with long red hair tied into a ponytail dressed in scale armor with a cloak was currently celebrating over the cleared bandit lair. Her name was Amalia Farseer, know by many names, but the most famous was Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin. Behind her, the ever loyal housecarl named Lydia. Dressed in steel armor as always, but sporting a nice glass sword at her side.

"Honor to you, my Thane." She said, flicking the sword clear of some blood, "But...you do know that was the bounty, right?"

A second passed by as Amalia processed this.

"Aw crap."

* * *

Finding the body was a lot easier than you'd think, it mostly involved tracking down the bloody splatter on the pavement.

Kneeling down next to the former redguard bandit, Amalia poked it with a stick.

"My Thane, what are you doing?" Lydia asked, searching the body for something that could be used for identification.

"Making sure he's dead Lydia."

"My Thane, you blew him off a mountain side. I don't think he's going to be revived soon. Or at all." Lydia rummaged through the body, "There we go. A journal, that will suffice….My Thane, what are you reading?"

"I dunno. It was on the ground. I think he was reading it before I fusrodahed." Amalia said, shrugging, "Whose Crantius Colto?"

Lydia furrowed her brow, "Do you mean Crassius Curio?"

"No, I mean...huh."

"What is it?"

"Written by Crassius Curio, I think this is a self insert."

"...Good to know, my Thane."

* * *

"My lord, as you are aware, the Stormcloaks have retaken The Reach, we simply must send some-"

"Enough." Balgruuf the Greater snapped, cutting his Steward, Proventus Avenicci, off. Ugh, it was too early in the morning for this. With the Imperial-Stormcloak truce now over, the two sides were at it again. With their new territory "negotiated" in the peace talk, both sides were now more than ever, ready to tear each other's throat out. And now his Steward was increasing his protests to back the Imperials.

He mentally sighed, he missed the days where things were simple, go there, kill this, get reward. Ah well, at the very least, he had rule over a sizeable hold, with good, loyal people.

Well, except for The Gray-Manes, but hey, nothing's perfect.

"My lord, I-" Cut off once again, the doors to Dragonsreach were opened, and in stepped in their resident adventures/comedy duo.

"Ah, what brings you here, Dragonborn?" Jarl Balgruuf asked, already knowing the answer as the two walked up the steps.

"Just turning in a bounty." Amalia said, holding up what was supposed to be a book of somesort, but it was soaked in blood, and was that...bone?

There was silence in the court.

"I'll admit, I could've planned it better." Amalia admitted, "But I still get the bounty, right?"

Lydia sighed, "Honor to you, my Thane."

* * *

**So, yeah, um, hi. This Skyrim fic, as you noticed, is short. The reason for that? It's the start of a oneshot series I hope to write. To those of you unaware: a oneshot series is sorta like a lot of self contained stories. With each chapter being their own genre and length. For instance, one could be a joke about the "arrow in the knee" meme, and another could be a chapter length about romance. Expect this fic to be updated randomly, as this is more or less just something to do when I have free time. Still, I hope this becomes something worth following.**

**Truly Wandering, Outlaw.**


	2. Songs for lunch

Slumping over on the table in The Bannered Mare, Amalia groaned as she lamented her cruel fate, "Lydiiiiaaa, I'm hungry."

"Our food will be here soon, my Thane." Lydia said, reading a book.

"Lydddiiiaaa…."

"Please be patient my Thane."

After a few seconds, the dragonborn slammed her hands on the table, Amalia glared, "I can't wait any longer!"

"We just sat down, my Thane."

"This is a travesty!"

"That's not how you use that word, my Thane."

"A tragedy!"

"You haven't died, my Thane."

"I might!"

"My Thane, I've seen you walk in dragon's fire unharmed, and you seem mildly annoyed by traps at best. I doubt hunger will be enough to to kill you."

"It just might! You never know, what if hunger strikes when I'm asleep, how will I defend myself then?!"

"...Wake up?"

"I wouldn't be able to wake up fast enough! You know I'm a heavy sleeper!"

Lydia briefly flashbacked to all the times they had decided to make camp in the middle of a tomb, in the forest, or in an abandoned fortress they had just cleared of vagabonds. While the bodies were still there.

"Indeed you are, my Thane." Lydia muttered under her breath.

"And we only got two hundred gold from the Steward! Two hundred! What kind of pay day is that?!" Amalia protested to the heavens/Lydia.

"That is the standard rate for bounties…."

"We risked our lives!"

"My Thane, we do that all the time. Sometimes just because you think there's something valuable in a cave."

"Well, there are!" Amalia said, crossing her arms, "All those necklaces and rings…"

"Why do you keep storing them in your chest at home?" Lydia asked, reminded of the chest near the master's bed that was filled to the brim with jewels of all kinds. For some reason, despite Lydia's protests, she refused to part with any of them. They were worth quite a lot, so as to why Amalia refused to sell any of them is still a mystery.

"Because." The Dovahkiin said, crossing her arms and actually looking hesitant for once.

"Because…"

"They're shiny." Amalia admitted, looking like she had just confessed her secret love to Lydia.

The housecarl raised an eyebrow, "Shiny, my Thane?"

"Shiny. I don't know why, but I just really like the way they sparkle and feel. Sometimes I just wanna dump out the chest and lay in them." A dreamlike look came into Amalia's brown eyes.

"My Thane?" Lydia asked, wondering if she had to get pots and pans to bang together.

"Eh? Sorry." Amalia said, snapping out of it and sitting back down.

Silence for a while.

"Is our food here yet?"

"It will be here soon, my Thane."

"Well, it'd better be soon or else-"

"Excuse me, everyone." The resident Bard/playboy, Mikael called out, causing everyone in the bar to turn and look at him, "I'd like to play a song about our resident hero and lovely lass, you know her as…"Dragonborn." This caused the assembled partons, most of which Amalia helped in some way over the course of her adventures, to look over where she was sitting and raise a glass in her honor.

"Oh no…" Amalia whimpered, meekly trying to hide herself and covering her head with her hand. Lydia narrowed her eyes.

Clearing his throat, Mikael began.

"_Our hero, our Hero claims a warrior's heart."_

"_I tell you, I tell you The Dragonborn comes."_

"_With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art."_

"_Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes."_

"_It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes."_

"_Beware, beware the Dragonborn comes."_

"_For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows."_

"_You'll know, you'll know The Dragonborn's come."_

A roaring cheer came through The Bannered Mare that day. Minus one Dragonborn, who simply settled for wrapping herself in her cloak and trying to become invisible.

* * *

"My Thane, are you alright?" Lydia asked, the still cloaked girl not moving despite her food arriving.

"Are they done cheering?" Amalia asked, peeking out of her shroud.

Lyida nodded, "Yes."

"Oh good." Sighing in relief, Amalia pulled the cloak off her and began to pick at the venison chop and taking a slip of the potato stew.

"My Thane, you really must get over this complex you have." Lydia proclaimed bluntly, taking a bite of the grilled chicken breast.

Glaring at the Housecarl, Amalia began to pick at her food with greater ferocity, "Hey, I don't recall asking to be the Dragonborn."

"Maybe so, my Thane, but you must learn that the deeds you've accomplished do earn you some praise." Lydia returned calmly.

Amalia bristled, "I just don't like-"

"The attention, I know. But still, my Thane, you have earned some recognition after all. It's to be expected."

"I know. People keep asking me if I went to Sovngarde to do battle with Aludin, it's getting really old."

"...But you did, didn't you?"

"I did." Amalia nodded, "Even got told by that Tsun guy I'd get a place there after I die."

"You met Tsun?" Lydia asked in amazement, "And you didn't tell me?"

"You never asked."

"You were in a coma after you got back."

"Oh yeah." Amalia blinked, snapping her fingers.

"My Thane, please try to act so causal when you meet legendary figures. I know it may seem common to you, but us normal folk don't lead lives like yours."


	3. Howling indoors

"Come on Lydia, the sooner we get to Jarl Elisif, the sooner we can be Thanes of Solitude!" Amalia called back to her lagging Housecarl.

"I would my Thane….but this... pack is slowing me down." Lydia answered, dragging a heavy looking bag carry enough oddities to supply a general store for at least a month.

Coming up to the gates of Solitude, which, as per tradition, were closed. Moving her fist to knock on the gate, Amalia suddenly halted.

"My Thane?" Lydia asked, still struggling to catch up but perplexed that her longtime friend and master suddenly froze up like a skeever in front of a giant.

"Uh..Now that I think of it, this probably isn't the best idea." Amalia admitted, shyly glancing at the guards, who, in turn, just looked back before resuming their posts.

"Why is that, my Thane?" Lydia asked, finally catching up.

"Cause...well...you know, Helgen…"

"My Thane, I do not understand why you are so hesitant about this. You talked to General Tullius during the peace treaty. I'm sure he cleared your name." Lydia assured, placing a hand on Amalia's shoulder.

"Yeah, but you were the one who got him for the peace treaty. I went to grab Ulfric, remember?" Amalia reminded, looking up to the taller Nord, "I think he might still think of me as a stormcloak."

"My Thane, you are the Dragonborn. You could, quite literally, tear him apart with your voice. Why are you so afraid of him?"

"...He's has a really scary glare." Amalia admitted.

"My Thane…"

"And he just doesn't really seem the forgiving type ya know?"

"My Thane…"

"Plus, he's has a really good memory. So I don't think he'll forget the fact I accidentally spitted on the back of his head during the peace talk…"

"You spitted on his head?" Lydia had to make sure she heard that correctly.

"Yeah, when the peace talk was over, I went outside for some fresh air, and I wanted to see how long it would take for a wad to fall down off High Hrothgar...and it sorta landed on his head…."

Lydia didn't know whether to smack her friend, or to just ignore her. So she did both.

* * *

After spending a night at the Winking Skeever, Amalia and Lydia went over the Blue Palace. That is, after Lydia dragged the Dovahkiin to General Tullius, who, was this point, more confused then anything else. After clearing her name, and avoiding recruitment by Legate Rikke, Amalia stood in front of the doorway.

"Well, I'm glad we got all that sorted out." Amalia said, feeling confident.

"My Thane, next time we talk to the General, please do not stand and whimper behind me."

"Yoou shut up."

Opening the door, the sounds of an discussion already underway could be heard about the building.

"_I swear to you, unnatural magics are coming from that cave! There are strange noises and lights! We need someone to investigate!"_

"_Then we will immediately send out a legion to scour the cave and secure the town. Haafingar's people will always be safe under my rule."_

"_Th...thank you, my Jarl thank you."_

Coming up the steps, the duo saw a group of people in attendance. The Jarl and her stewards, and one imperial farmer with a receding hairline who stood in the center.

"What's going on?" Amalia asked in a whisper to Lydia.

"I overhead in the Winking Skeever that a scared farmer from Dragon Bridge was seen headed for the Blue Palace. This must be him." She answered quickly.

"Your eminence, my scrying has suggested nothing in the area. Dragon Bridge is under imperial control." A female breton dressed in blue mage robes asserted, "This is likely superstitious nonsense."

"Perhaps a more...tempered reaction...might be called for." A nord dressed in fine clothes suggested.

"Oh. Yes, of course you are right. Falk," The Jarl looked to the Nord, "tell Captain Aldis I said to assign a few extra soldiers to Dragon Bridge."

The farmer looked panicked for a sec, "Thank you, Jarl Elisif. But about the cave…"

Falk spoke up in the Jarl's place, "I will have someone take care of the cave as well Varnius, you can rest easy. You're dismissed." The farmer bowed his head, and walked out.

Sparing a nod to Amalia as he passed by, the farmer left the building.

"Hey Lydia, if we take care of the cave, do you think we'll get a few points with the Jarl?" Amalia whispered to the housecarl.

"It would be a good way to introduce ourselves." Lydia agreed, nodding her head.

Stepping up to the steward, Falk Firebread looked at them scrutiny, "Do you have business with the court?" He asked bluntly.

"I heard you were looking for some help with a cave." Amalia answered.

"You mean the Dragon Bridge issue?" Falk crossed his arms, "I'll be honest with you, I was planning to let that go. Varnius is a bit jumpy at the best of times."

Amalia titled her head.

"There have been reports of weird happenings near Wolfskull Cave. Travelers disappearing, odd light. I suspect wild animals or perhaps bandits. I don't think it's worth our time with the war going on, but if you want to clear out the cave, I'll make sure you're repaid for you work."

Amalia smiled, "Quest accepted."

* * *

"So what sounds better? The man who cried wolf? Or Gone missing?" Amalia asked, writing in a small notebook as they trekked through the landscape west of Solitude."

"The man who cried wolf." Lydia answered without missing a beat as she climbed over a rock.

Scribbling that down her journal, the Dragonborn took Lydia's hand as the housecarl pulled her up.

"Are you still making those titles my Thane?" Lydia asked, taking a second to pull out a map and review where Wolfskull cave was. They had walked quite a ways, making sure to avoid the Thalmor embassy on the road, mostly because if they did, Lydia wasn't sure she could stop Amalia from unleashing the full power of her shouts on the building. Though the thought was tempting, they had other things to do.

"Yep." Amalia answered, looking over the rocky mountains.

It was an odd tradition, when Lydia had first met Amalia after she became Thane of Whiterun, she had discovered the newly named Dovahkiin had a habit of naming tasks and objectives. Dragonslayer, unbound, etc. She had claimed it was to help her remember anything she had to do. Lydia could agree to that logic, if thinking up a fancy name could help her recall any task she had to do, Lydia would name it as well.

"Over there!" Amalia shouted, snapping the Nord out of her thoughts. The Berton was pointing at a rock outcropping in the near distance.

"My Thane, are you sure that-" Lydia didn't get to finish as Amalia jumped off the rock they were standing on and began running to where she had pointed.

"By Talos…" Lydia muttered.

Straining a bit to catch up, (heavy armor was never easy to move in, after all) Lydia saw her master standing in front of a cave next to a large tree stump. Approaching her and taking a few breaths, she addressed Amalia, "My Thane, please don't do that again."

"Is this Wolfskull cave?" Amalia asked, ignoring Lydia's displeasurement and shifting the weight on her Skyforged steel greatsword she got from being a member of the companions.

"Aye...I think so." Taking out her map, Lydia scanned the location of her marker on the paper and their current location, "How did you know this was the right one?"

Amalia smiled, "Oh you know, eye of the dragon and all that."

Lydia looked to her, eyebrows raised, "Eyes of the what?"

"What?"

"Are you saying you can see like a dragon does?" Lydia asked, feigning amazement. Truly, the powers of the Dragonborn were strange indeed.

"Wha-no! I just have a good sense for these things." Amalia squawked, "...Wait...are you screwing with me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, my Thane. You have strange powers beyond us mere mortals."

"Hey, what's that's supposed to mea-Lydia! Get back here! Answer me! What did you mean by strange?! Lydia?! LYDIA!"

Entering the cave with much ruckus, Amalia and Lydia slowly drew their weapons and proceeded through cave.

"What did you mean by strange?" Amalia asked, sounding like she was on the verge of heartbreak.

"Oh, just that, as Dragonborn, I assumed that you would take on properties of dragons over time." Lydia answered, keeping a still face as they walked through the cave.

"No I won't...would I?" Amalia mumbled, "I'm not gonna grow wings or anything like that...right?"

"My Thane…." Lydia sighed, absentmindedly slicing a draugr in half with a well placed swing.

"I mean, I think having wings would be cool, but I don't want to be all scaly and mean. What if I get a big nose like they do? Oh, I don't think I could take it…" Amalia sighed, clearly lost in her own world as they walked on.

"My Thane!" Lydia snapped.

"What?" Still in a daze, Amalia looked around.

"Get back!"

Amalia turned just in time to see a fireball head right for her face...and miss her by mere inches as Lydia reached out by the collar and pulled her back.

"We're under attack, my Thane." The housecarl said, readying her elven sword and orcish shield as the Dragonborn fell flat on her ass.

"I see, thanks Lydia."

"Well, ain't this a surprise!" A necromancer gloated, readying another fireball spell with his right hand.

"For Whiterun!" Lydia bellowed out, charging towards the two mages who

"For pony!" Amalia joined in, still on the ground and sending a firebolt at the mage, who blocked with a basic ward spell.

Growling, the mage sent out another fireball towards Amalia. Which caused a massive explosion as the other sent out a stream of frost towards Lydia. Which had about much luck as you might expect.

When the smoke cleared, he saw that his spell hit true. The intruder was burnt all over and covered in ash.

"Ouch." She muttered, shaking her head and clearing the soot away, "Really glad I put some magicka resistance on this thing." Standing up, Amalia seemed unharmed as she picked up her greatsword and laid the tip against the ground. Grinning, she turned to the mage, "Soo...I'm betting you thought that would work right? Well, let me tell you something I-"

The nercomage's attention was taken away when Lydia brutally cut his head off.

"Ah, Lydia! I was about to tell him off!" Amalia protested at the kill steal.

"Should've been faster, my Thane."

"Well, I like to see you take a fireball to the face like I did." Amalia huffed, crossing her arms and looking away.

Kneeling down to check their pockets, Lydia nodded, "I sure you could, my Thane."

"Damn right."

"Quite, my Thane."

"...Are you even paying attention?" Amalia asked, perplexed.

"Ooh, this one had three hundred gold on him...and a dwarven dagger!" Lydia proclaimed, holding her new prize up.

"Lydia!" Amalia shouted.

"What?" The housecarl asked, turning her head.

"I call dibs on next!"

* * *

After moving through the cave and mowing down a Draugr scourge by pelting him with arrows and fireball spells. Amalia and Lydia were standing over a large pit.

"Well. You first." Amalia said, turning to Lydia.

"What? Why me?" Lydia asked, confused

"Because your sturdier than I am." Amalia answered honestly.

"My Thane, I am wearing heavy armor." Lydia replied.

"And?"

"You are wearing light armor." She pointed at Amalia's scale armor minus a helmet.

"...Your point?"

"You won't break your legs when you hit the ground?" Lydia offered.

"Oh don't be baby." Amalia said, walking behind her.

"My Thane, I really do thiiiiIIIIINNNNK!" Lydia yelped as Amalia kicked her off the ledge.

There was a loud thud when she hit the ground.

Jumping down and landing without a scuffle, Amalia brushed herself off.

"Well, that wasn't too bad was-OW" Staggering back, Amalia held up reflexively used a restoration spell to her eye.

"My Thane. _Don't_ do that again." Lydia growled, holding her fist up.

"Okay okay! Just don't punch me again!"

* * *

Stepping into the next cavern, (with Amalia still nursing the eye), they saw that Varnius fears...weren't quite as unfounded as Falk thought.

"_Wolf Queen. Hear our call and awaken. We summon Potema!"_

"_We summon Potema!"_

The voices echoed throughout the chamber, with channels of massive arcane energy surging through the air, snaking around the stone fortress forgotten by time, all gathering around a center point. A massive orb of power with a white, translucent being in the center.

"...Why is it purple?" Amalia asked.

"Is this really the time, my Thane?" Lydia returned.

"Good point."

"_Long have you slept the dreamless dream of death, Potema. No longer. Hear us, Wolf Queen! We summon you!"_

"_We summon Potema!"_

Looking around, Lydia pointed down to down to an staircase that would lead into the fortress, "There, let's go!"

"Okay!"

Quickly taking a detour through a side passage, and taking down a novice mage who had the unfortunate luck to be there, Amalia and Lydia moved through the stone fortress.

"_Wolf Queen. Hear our call and awaken. We summon Potema."_

"_We summon Potema."_

"That chant is getting really old." Amalia muttered, ducking under a skeleton's blow and chopping it's legs off.

"Aye." Lydia agreed, stabbing a Necromancer through the chest and finishing it with a spinning slash.

After finishing off the next batch of adversaries, they ascended up a spiral staircase.

Being in the lead, Amalia quickly took out the Dragur that had was stationed there, "Alright, I think it's-"

"Fus ro dah."

Knocked clean off her feet, Amalia was smacked against the wall, a Draugr Deathlord ran towards the stunned Dragonborn with it's honed greatsword raised for a killing blow.

Amalia scrambled for her greatsword, and found it out of her reach. Looking up to her killer, Amalia hoped, in her last moments, that Lydia would be all right.

"Not today, freak!"

And found her prayers unneeded, Lydia was standing between the two, holding her orcish shield in Amalia's defense. It's modern metal more than a match for the ancient sword.

Grunting, Lydia bashed the sword away.

"Thanks Lydia!" Amalia said, rising to her feet and running to her sword.

"Don't thank me yet!" Blocking another blow from the Draugr, Lydia returned the favour with a slash, but found the hide of the undead to be tough indeed, "Damn freak, die already!" She grunted, pulling up her shield for another block. The next blow proved to a powerful one, causing Lydia to stagger as her shield arm went numb for a few moments.

The Draugr opened his mouth

"Fus-"

"Yol toor!" A roaring column of flame over took the Draugr Deathlord. Burning it, and giving Lydia the chance to recover.

"Die!" She yelled, cutting it's knees with a wild slash, causing it to stumble and fall to it's knees.

And giving the perfect opening to the resident two hander.

"Hyyah!" With a roaring cry, Amalia cut it's head off in one clean swoop.

Pausing for breath, Lydia nodded her head at Amalia, who merely smiled in return.

"_Yes! YES! Return me to this realm!" _

"Was that…" Amalia trailed off, looking to the ceiling.

"Potema is being resurrected. We have to hurry." Lydia commanded, heading up the stairs.

"Hey, wait for me!"

"_As our voices summon you the blood of the innocent binds you Wolf Queen!"_

"_Summon with words. Bound by blood."_

"_What are you doing?! You fools! You cannot bind me to your wills!_

"_Summon with words. Bound by blood."_

"Eh? Are they trying to take control of her?" Amalia asked, her frow burrowing as she pelted a scourge with fireballs with a freehand before switching back to two handed with the Skyforged Greatsword

"I believe so!" Lydia confirmed, raising her shield to block an attack by another deathlord.

"That doesn't make any sense!" Amalia complained, skewering the Draugr Scourge with her blade.

"How so?" Lydia asked, bashing the Deathlord with her shield before going in for a power attack with her sword, cutting a gash across it's face and giving Amalia enough time to catch up and stab it through it's side.

"_You ants don't have the power to bind me!"_

"The Wolf Queen was human right?" The Dovahkiin asked, sliding the body off her sword.

"Yes, like they said, her real name was Potema. Born in the sixty-seventh of the third era, she was renowned for being a powerful necromancer." Lydia explained as they moved up the steps.

"But...How? Her soul would be be over five centuries old." Amalia said, confused, "I don't know too much about her, but wouldn't her soul be recycled the dreamsleeve by now?"

"She must be exceptionally stubborn." Lydia commented dryly.

Moving through the fortress and cutting down anyone who stood in their way, the duo arrived at the last spiral staircase.

"Something is not right. There is an intruder." The first voice declared.

"Gee, ya think?" Amalia muttered, "You think she would've noticed all the noise we made."

Lydia just nodded.

Two necromancers came down the staircase. Now, normally, in the case of most cases, this would allow the mages a height advantage. Castles designed spiral staircases with defense in mind. As per each design, each one either shifted to the left or the right, to allow for defenders to hold off an attacker either by running their weapon into the wall, or simply firing downwards and backpedal up while attacks would be assaulted by spells. But in this case, with the adjacent wall gone and the mages heading downwards, meant they were giving up the single advantage to the two adventurers.

Basically, their legs got chopped off by the high quality weapons they used and flung over their heads.

Emerging onto the top of the tower, Amalia and Lydia saw the last three of the necromancers.

"Hold them off!" The Ritual master commanded, "The spell is almost complete!"

Two of them, one drawing an iron dagger and the other readying a lightning spell, charged the two.

"Wuld!"

Or one of them.

Moving so fast, the world seem to blur, Amalia now stood in front of the Ritual Master, who gawked in surprise.

"Hi." She said merrily.

"Hi?"

"Bye."

"Bye?"

With a single movement, Amalia chopped off the head of the master. Causing the surges of arcane power to simply dissipate out of the air, and the orb that was summoning Potema to disappear.

The two remaining mages stopped mid charge and looked at each other.

"Well? Get." Lydia ordered.

The two mages quickly got.

Regrouping, Amalia frowned, "Well, that was anticlimactic."

Lydia shrugged, "Honor to you, my Thane."

* * *

Stepping out of the cave, Lydia shuffled around in her new steel plate armor. Having find a conveniently located chest after descending a drawbridge with some decent loot, Amalia and Lydia had made off with a decent score.

"My Thane, shall we return to Solitude?" Lydia asked,

"Hm? Yeah yeah…" Amalia answered absentmindedly.

"My Thane?" Turning around, Lydia saw what the problem was, "My Thane, please look where you're going…"

"Huh wha?" Looking up from her book, Amalia looked over to where Lydia was just in time to trip on the large tree stump and fall over, causing a loud _thunk._

"Ow…" Amalia mumbled, laying face first on the stump.

"Are you alright my Thane?" Lydia asked, rolling her eyes.

"Just damaged pride…" The Berton muttered, shuffling to her feet, she picked up her book, _The Refugees_.

"Should we head back to Solitude, my Thane?" Lydia repeated.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Amalia nodded, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. Turning back to the road, Amalia set off back on the path to Solitude.

* * *

After making it back to the Blue Palace and spending another night in the Winking Skeever, Falk Firebread was standing in his usual spot, and Jarl Elisif….wasn't.

"Great…." Looking around, Amalia sighed, all that work, and they couldn't show it in front of the Jarl, still…

Approaching the steward, he nodded in greeting, "You've returned, good. What did you find at Wolfskull cave?"

Amalia shrugged, "Some necromancers were attempting to summon and control Potema." She answered.

Falk's eyes widened, "Potema herself? Please tell me you stopped them."

"Well, we interrupted the ritual before it could be completed, so yeah."

Falk's shoulders sagged in relief, "You've done a larger service to the realm then you could possibly know. A resurrected Potema….I shudder at the thought." Reaching into his pocket, he held out a large sack of coins, "Here, take this."

"Thankyee kindly." Amalia smiled, taking the purse.

A silence overtook the room.

"So...I'll just...be going then." Amalia decided, rubbing the back of her head and walking down the staircase.

Exiting the building, Amalia and Lydia passed by a guard by the doorway.

"I don't abide fancy clothes, but you look like you might.I hear The Radiant Raiment has a large selection." The guard appealed.

Amalia and Lydia turned to look at him.

"You're really lonely huh?" Amalia asked.

"..."

"..."

"...Aye." The guard admitted.

* * *

**Man, writing action scenes is HARD. It's just so tempting just say something like "They dueled for a time" or somesuch. Anyway, I hope you've noticed some of the creatives liberties I've taken, like Amalia somehow using magic despite using a two handed greatsword. Well, it's easier just to think of it as Amalia pointing the tip into the ground and holding it at her waist and using her free hand to cast. Anyway, this is a long chapter, and I wrote it all in one day. New record! Also, this little bit at the end with the guard, he literally said that as I was walking out. I find that just standing around all day in isolation leads to boredom and/or loneliness.**

**Anyway, please, Read and Review! I find that your reviews really help!**

**Truly Wandering, Outlaw.**


	4. Dreams and reality

Preparing a fireball spell in her hand, Amalia smirked, this was too easy. A draugr was standing out in the open, next to a word wall that would allow her to achieve the next level of power. She wasn't _quite _sure how she got there, but odds are she had simply smashed her way through with Lydia. Things were simple like that. Anyway, with a little luck, this would be an easy kill, now where was Lydia…

"For Whiterun!"

Oh, apparently, she was there, dressed in full Ebony armor and swinging an enchanted sword that Amalia didn't remember her getting. Maybe she had looted it somewhere or forged it? Lydia was good with the smith hammer, so it wasn't really a surprise.

Still, Lydia might need some help, so without further ado, Amalia released the energy she had been building in her palm towards the Draugr that Lydia was currently engaged with. Now, normally, Amalia might have taken the care not to use such a wide scale attack with Lydia so close, but that full Ebony set meant that she could definitely handle it. A few moments of healing hands afterwards and she'd be right as rain.

After pelting the two with fireballs, enough to make a dragon jealous, the Draugr fell. Lydia was on her knees, and Amalia jumped down from her position on the balcony.

"Whoo! That was fun right? Where'd you get that armor?" Amalia asked, raising one hand for a healing spell, "Oh here, let me-oof!"

The hilt of Lydia's sword smacked into Amalia's side, causing the Dragonborn to stumble backwards, gasping for air.

"I am tired, my Thane." Lydia's voice said, her voice unchanged despite the helmet, "Of your incessant yammering."

"I...I don't..." Amalia spatted out, struggling for air.

"Of your stupidity." Walking up to her causally, Lydia smacked Amalia with her shield, making her fall on her back, sliding across the floor from force.

"W-what…Lydia…" Amalia rasped out, crawling backwards and prepping herself up against the wall.

"Of your neglect." Sheathing her sword, Lydia pulled out an axe, a daedric axe, a hellish thing used only by the most depraved of killers.

"I...I…." Amalia gasped, not even thinking to defend herself.

"But, I tire most, of you. You pathetic excuse of a Dragonborn." Dropping her shield, Lydia held the axe with two hands.

"Lyida...I'm...I'm...sor-"

"Goodbye, my Thane." Lydia said, then brought the axe down.

* * *

Amalia's eyes shot open, and bolted upright. Panting for breath, her long red hair falling in front of her face, the young girl looked around. She was in her house, laying on the masterbed in night clothes, not in some forgotten ruin with a murderous friend.

_It's okay, I'm in Breezehome. Whiterun. Home._

Sighing in relief, Amalia let herself fall back onto her bed, spreading her arms out. On her neck, all the way to her left shoulder, a very visible and ugly scar lay there. Once, when she was younger, she had stumbled upon a Chaurus nest, and one of the creatures had gotten too close. At the time, she was too paralyzed by fear to move out of the way. The end result? The insect took a large bite of her shoulder, she nearly died. But her adopted dad, a Nord warrior, was nearby, and heard her screams. Saving her just in time. Ever since then, the wound festered, even when she was attended to by healers.

And it was times like now, when she could feel the phantom pain of the bite. When she was emotionally unbalanced, when she couldn't sleep. When she had something to do.

"Of all the stupid…" Rising herself from her bed, and taking the covers with her, Amalia tipped toed over to the guest room, where Lydia slept.

Dearily opening the door, Amalia peeked inside her best friend's room. There she was, the Nord Warrior who assaulted her in her nightmares. Asleep, no Ebony armor, no hell axe, no scary voice.

Next to her bed was a cupboard where she kept most of her stuff. On it was her favored armored gauntlets

Opening the door further and tip toeing inside, Amalia measured her pace carefully, oh so carefully, and reached for the gloves.

"Nrrgg…" Lydia muttered, shuffling in her bed, causing Amalia to freeze mid-grab. Her heart pounding against her chest. Soon enough though, Lydia went back to restful sleep. Letting out held breath, Amalia grabbed the gloves and exited the room as quickly as possible.

* * *

"Hail Dragonborn."

"Hi Gary. How's the knee?"

"Pretty good, thanks for cure disease potion by the way, wife was real worried about that. Damn vampires. What brings you to Dragonsreach so late at night?"

Amalia rolled her eyes and stepped back, allowing the guard to get a full view of her barely bed sheet covered body, "To seduce you-no. I need to use Farengar's enchanting table."

Gary the guard crossed his arms, "What for?"

"To enchant these." Reaching into her bedsheets, Amalia pulled out a set of steel plated gauntlets.

"Aren't these Hoursecarl Lydia's? Why do you have them?" Gary asked, raising an eye beneath his helmet.

"..." Amalia was silent for a moment, an odd occurrence from their resident Dragonborn, "I just...need you to trust me."

"Aye. Whatever you need miss."

* * *

"Grrk, Dragonborn? What do you want at this Akatosh denied hour?" Adrianne Avenicci of Warmaiden's asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I know, but I need to use your forge." Amalia stated, "I also need three Ebony ingots and two leather strips. Please."

"What's this about? Are you trying to forge one hundred iron daggers again?" Adrianne asked, "And why are you wearing only your night clothes and bedsheets?"

"Just-"

"It's about Lydia isn't it?" Adrianne asked, cutting her off, causing Amalia to nod. Sighing the imperial rubbed her head, "Wait here, I'll get my apron."

* * *

Lydia awoke early, as she often did. Out of the the two, Lydia liked to think of her as the responsible one, she made breakfast, cleaned the armor, and made sure Amalia would get up in the morning. Heavy sleeper that one. Funny thing though, Amalia would always wake up on the same minute she went to sleep on. 10:21pm? She'd wake on 8:21am. No expectations. When Lydia asked about this, Amalia just shrugged, "I dunno really know." She said in response. Lydia had chalked it up as one of the many quirks of the Dovahkiin.

"My Thane, it's time to get up!" Lydia called out after properly dressed. Odd, her gauntlets were missing. They should've been on the cupboard, oh well, didn't matter right didn't seem to be an adventuring day anyway, so maybe they would just stay in Whiterun? Unlikely, but, it would be nice for a chance to stay in.

"My Thane?" Lydia called again, entering her room to wake her. To her dismay, she found that her master wasn't there, and the bedsheets were missing as well. Frowning, Lydia ran the possibilities in her mind, was she trying to forge two hundred iron daggers again? Did she go swimming under the bridge to Dragonsreach? Did she go to jail for trying to murder Nazeem?

"My Thane? Amalia?" Something wasn't right, maybe she really did kill Nazeem was in jail. Grabbing her sword off the nightstand, Lydia hurried down the stairs. If she acted quickly, she could maybe get the Jarl to go easy on her, make her do some bounty hunting, clean the sweeps to High Hrothgar, something, anything, as long as it wasn't jail. If she couldn't, then she would have to prepare a horse quickly for when Amalia would blow the doors down with her thu'um. The jails would never recover from that.

Her questions were answered when Amalia Farseer stumbled through the doorway, alive and unharmed, but dressed in her night clothes and wearing her bedsheets.

"Amalia! What are you doing?" Lydia demand. To her surprise, Amalia looked up to her were tired looking eyes.

"Mhm." Her hands were behind her back, was she holding something?

"My Thane, are you-" Lydia was cut off as four objects were thrust into her hands, "My Thane?" She asked, perplexed.

"...Promise you won't get mad?" Amalia asked in a half whisper.

Lydia blinked, and saw what was being held in her hands. Two sets of gauntlets, her steel plate ones, and a set of…

"Ebony gauntlets? My Thane, where did you get these?" Lydia asked, observing them. They were finely tempered, reinforced to a great degree. And there was… "My name?" Written along the side of the gloves was her name in ivory.

"Mimhm." Amalia confirmed.

"And you...enchanted these?" Lydia blinked, observing her steel plate ones, they were enchanted with a heavy fire resistance spell, made with a Grand soul gem, at least.

"Just in case, you know, I send a fireball spell at you and you get mad and-"

Embracing her in a hug, Lydia smiled, "Thank you my Thane, what brought this on?"

"W-well, you know...H-happy birthday, Lydia."

"Thank you, Amalia."

* * *

**Hello again, this one mainly came out of this one time I sent a fireball spell (which, by now, you can probably tell is my favorite spell. EXPLOSIONS) at Serena, Dawnguards best follower, and well, she got mad at me and started attacking. This freaked me out for a sec, but just sheathing my weapon caused her to calm down.**

**Anyway, I know what some of you are going to ask, especially the more...open minded among you, but no. Lydia and Amalia aren't a couple. It'd better to think of their relationship as sisters. One being the older, more responsible one, and the younger more adventurous one. **

**And by the way, points to K0H for noticing the gold hording thing like classic western dragons. **

**As always, please, review! Truly Wandering, Outlaw.**


	5. Melting the snow and yelling at the sky

Sigmund Wolf-Face was not what you would call a "morning person." He was a guard in Dawnstar, the capital of The Pale. A _lowly _guard, that is. His family served in the great war, rather, his father did. It ended about the time he came into adulthood, so no real chance to fight for glory, honor, or a chance to enter Sovngarde. Sure, there was this Civil War going on, with Ulfric StormCloak on one side and the Imperials on the other. Hell, even had a fancy retired legionare that lived in the same hold as him. Slight problem with that though, the Jarl of the hold, Skald. Man would fight and die for Ulfric's cause. Ysmir's bread, Sigmund would be willing to bet that the second the fight would be taken to The Pale, Skald would be there on the front line.

But, that's for another time, and another place.

Forcing himself to rise from his bed in the barracks, Sigmund dressed himself quickly, as was a running challenge in the local guard. Who can get themselves ready for the day, that armor was harder to put on them most people would think. And Sigurd prided himself on being the fastest male in the hold. The females held their own league for...reasons.

Setting himself down for breakfast, which consisted of fruit and bread, he rubbed his tan haired head.

"Morning Sigmund. Nightmares again?" One of the other guards in the hold, a female by the name of Becia Flametounge, and incidentally his cousin, asked. Sitting across from him with her own breakfast, which also consisted of bread and fruit. Call it unimaginative, but it was all they had. The Jarl probably got all the best food, then again, he seemed like a traditional Nord. So it was unlikely.

"Aye. Been having the same damn dream over and over again. I've been thinking, what if this is the work of some Daedra? I heard that the Silus guy is opening a museum or something about that Mythic Dawn. Think he might have something to do with it?"

"Doubtful, he strikes me as more the misguided type. He wants to revive his family legacy or something." Becia replied, shooting his suggestion down, "You should get yourself a wife, you know." She said suddenly.

Sigmund choked on his bread.

"What-" hacking out his words, Sigmund punched his chest a few times before regaining his breath, "What in Talo's name are you babbling about?"

"A wife, you should get yourself one." Becia answered without missing a beat.

Sigmund shook his head, "Not this again…"

"You know your family would be happy."

"I know."

"Your mother would love to have grandkids."

"I _know._"

"Your father would-"

"_I know!"_

Slamming his fist down on the table, the woodwork shook. Becia gently lowered her hands, and Sigmund let his temper simmer.

"I know that my dad would be proud of me if I brought a woman home. But he would be more proud of me if I did something like-"

"Slay a dragon?" Becia finished for him.

"Slay a dragon." He muttered….slumping back in his chair.

The air was silent, and a tense calm filled the space between the two. By now, the other guards had left for the morning portal.

"Look, I just think that-"

"I know."

"That you can do more than just being a guard. Hell, if the Dragonborn could do it. Anyone could." Becia said.

Sigmund snorted, crossing his arms, "Right, the "Dragonborn." Bunch of hogwash that is."

Becia glared, "It's not hogwash, she's real. They say she can breathe a breath of fire, and is as restless as the wind."

"Right, next you'll tell me she's best friends with a dragon."

Becia scowled in reply.

Sigmund huffed, his voice disdainful, "I thought as much."

* * *

After leaving the barracks, Sigmund went about his morning patrol. That said: it was mostly just walking around Dawnstar for the better part of the morning. Dawnstar wasn't that big, large enough to be a hold, small enough that one could make a complete pass in about ten minutes. Saying hello to the innkeeper, Thoring and his daughter, Karita, on his morning route, Sigurd stood at the path leading into Dawnstar. This was his morning post, and he would stay there until relieved of duty. Some of the miners could be shuffling about through Dawnstar, the hold's main source of livelihood, aside from fishing that is. There were two mines, Quick-silver and Iron-breaker. It didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out what they mined.

Beyond that, nobody really came into Dawnstar unless to do some trading, they were a major port after all. But, a major port often meant pirates. Lots and lots of pirates. Just last week, they had to take out a skiv worth of the rogues when they had the bright idea to make land not that far away from the harbour.

He was still cleaning some of the blood off his boots.

Anyway, aside from the occasional bad pirate planning or troll attack, there was really nothing to do expect count the day's away from retirement.

"There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead." He began, singing a little ditty to himself, "And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade, as he told of bold battles and gold he made! But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shieldmaiden Matilda who said…"

"Have you seen a guy dressed in red?"

"Huh?" Turning around, Sigmund saw a short, like, really short lady in front of him. She barely came up his shoulders. Granted, he was a Nord, but still. He couldn't make out any facial features, she was wearing a heavy cloak with the hood up, though he could make out a strand of fire red hair that draped out of the hood. She held a staff in her left hand, and from the looks of it, a sword could be seen resting on her side. Right now, she was wearing adept robes with heavy armor for legs and gloves.

"I got a letter about some guy whose starting a museum about the Mythic Dawn. Do you know where he is?" She repeated.

"Oh, right, Silus." Turning around, he pointed to a house on the far east end of the Hold, "That's the place, right over there. Just look for the tappings against the wall."

Looking to where he was point, the girl nodded, "Thank you." She said, setting off on the path.

"What do you want there anyway? He's as gone as a priest of Arkay." Sigmund called after her.

Turning around, the girl lifted her head, and her amber eyes looked back to him, "Cause I'm bored." With no more words, she went back to walking.

Watching her go, he shook his head, "Huh. Strange lady."

* * *

It was midday when it happened.

Sigmund had just been relieved of his post when Becia had walked up to him, battle axe over her shoulder.

"Hey." She greeted, "Ready for the shift change?"

"Aye." Sigmund nodded, grateful for the chance to get off his feet.

"By the way, did you see that Breton woman? She went into that Silus' house. Think she might be a cultist?" Becia asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"What? No way." Sigmund said, looking at her throw his helmet.

"What makes you say that?" Becia questioned.

"Just didn't seem the type." Sigmund stated.

"You met her?"

"Showed her the way to Silus' house." Sigmund admitted, shrugging, "Didn't really talk to her, but I didn't feel that creeped out by her. Didn't know she was a Breton though."

"Huh. Were you-"

"Be quiet."

"Ha, so you-"

"No really, be quiet. Do you hear that?" Turning around and looking to the sky, Sigmund stretched his ears.

"What is it?" Becia asked, walking up to him.

"Is that...wings?"

True enough, Sigmund heard the flapping of wings overhead, and a shadow across the ground was moving, quickly.

"Oh no, it's a…." Becia breathed.

"Dragon." Sigurd exclaimed, his breathing "Go, inform the Jarl."

"But-"

"I said go!" Sigmund snapped.

He didn't turn around as Becia ran for the Jarl's longhouse.

_Alright then, Tsun, if I don't make it, you better be ready to save me a place in Sovngarde. _Sigmund thought, drawing his steel sword and shield, following the Dragon's flight path by it's shadow.

The Dragon circled overhead, by now, the people of Dawnstar were scrambling for cover. Many of the other guards had taken up bows and arrows, hoping to shoot the dragon down. If any hit, the Dragon sure didn't show any signs up showing it. It's scales providing an insane defense against their iron and steel arrowheads.

"We need to bring it down!" One of the other guards shouted.

"How?!"

"Look out, it's coming for another pass!"

Sigmund barely had time to throw himself under a rock formation in the center of town as the Dragon swooped over and let out a scorching breath of fire. Touching the woodwork of the houses, and burning many of his comrades, cries of pain were rampant as the Dragon's fire roasted their skin and armor.

Forcing himself to his feet, Sigmund felt the ground shake.

Looking up, he saw the Dragon had landed on the ground level above him, and was staring right, at, him.

"Oh shi-"

The Dragon reared his head, and lunged forward. It's fanged maw shooting towards him, gaping death bent to take him to an ignominious end. Reacting on pure relfex, Sigmund raised his shield just in time to catch the bite. The Dragon was not deterred though, biting down harder, crushing his shield in it's maw. Rending the metal brittle and weak with jaw strength alone. Lifting Sigmund upward, his arm still holding onto the shield, the Dragon shook it's head left and right, before finally letting him go.

Well, letting go was an understatement, the Dragon just opened it's mouth at the end of one it's arcs and let Sigmund fly through the air like a rag doll.

The feeling of weightlessness was a strange one. For one, Sigmund felt something in his stomach retch backwards as he flew, his ears rang, and for the space of a moment, he felt like he was floating.

Then, reality came back to him as he crashed against some stairs.

Groaning in pain, Sigmund's arms were sprawled against the floorboards. Idly, he noted he fell in front of Silus' house.

_Heh._ He grimly noted, the Dragon was gearing up for another sprawl of flame. Even now, with his helmet broken, he could see the Dragon bend it's neck back, obviously reading itself to deliver a fiery death to the guard. _Well, at the very least, Silus' Mythic Dawn crap be going along with me. _He thought.

"Yol Toor Shul!" Sigmund thought he heard the Dragon shout, he was fairly certain he was imagining things, Dragons couldn't shout.

It was weird, his time was coming, but he didn't seem all that worried. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Becia was going to be okay, he wondered if he would go to Sovngarde in his death, but he mostly wondered if the Dragon would get it over with. It seemed to be taking a long time. Looking up, he saw the reason why.

Standing in front of him stood the Breton lass, holding a ward of somesort in front of her. Unyielding against the restless and devouring flame, the lass held out both holds to keep up the spell. It wasn't a perfect defense, fire was still getting through, burning away her cloak and hood. From the ground, he saw a mane of red, amber eyes narrowed in concentration, her robe fluttering the wind of flame, and his breath was taken away.

"Grrrraaaaaah!" His savoir grunted, his sense returning, Sigmund began to rise to his feet, he noted that the lass's skin was taking on a dragon like quality. Her flesh becoming scale like, and her eyes became sharper, like the beast she was battling.

Dragonskin, that's what it was called, Sigmund remembered.

Soon enough, the fire attack ended, and the lass lowered her arms. Heavy breaths and shoulders slumping came from her, but, taking in a breath. The lass walked out, unsheathing her sword.

"Hey there beasty!" The lass said, a big smile on her face, twirling her sword in her hand, "Oh right, how's it go in Dragon...Oh right. Rok til hinzaal, fos hi gaav?"

Sigmund blinked, that wasn't like any language he heard. Was that...the language of the Th'um? If that was the case, then the person who saved him was.

"Dovahkiin!" The dragon roared back, obviously pissed and causing the girl to grin even more.

"Dragonborn…" Sigmund said, amazed. The person he had run into earlier, was the Dragonborn? Huh. Just, huh.

"Tol fund kos zey! Hi gaav diron voth tol?" The lass shouted back, Sigmund didn't understand one word of it, but it sounded like she was taunting the Dragon.

The Dragon, in reply, let out a roar of pure rage and took to the skies, beginning to circle overhead.

"Oh that's cheating!" The lass shouted, running after it.

"Sigmund!" He heard Becia's voice call after him, soon enough, his cousin ran up to him, battle axe in hand, "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine." He said, wincing and moving to hold his shield arm, it was numb, and from the looks of it, bleeding.

"By Ysmir's beard, your arm. What happened to you?!" Becia asked.

"Dragon got me." Sigmund cringed, slumping forward, "That lass, the Breton, she went after it. Turns out she's the Dragonborn."

"Amalia Farseer is here?" Becia gasped, "Where? Did you see her?! Where did she go?!"

"I just told you. She went after it." Sigmund repeated, "Just listen for the sounds of shouting."

"Gaav rigir het bo siigonis!" Came the Dragonborn's voice from over the hillside.

"See?"

"Aye. Come on, we got to help her!" Becia shouted, starting to run to where the shout came from.

"I don't think there's much we can do Becia. Becia!" Sigmund sighed as Becia ran off. Growling, Sigmund forced his legs to move and chased after his cousin.

* * *

When he got there, he saw the Dragonborn engaged in a fierce battle with the beast. Right now, the Dragon was in a rut. Literally. A large gorge in the earth it stood in, how it got there, Sigmund would never know. Becia, for her part, was also taking swings at the Dragon, but it seemed the main part was being taken over by Amalia. Holding her own despite the massive difference in size.

Lunging again, the Dragon tired to take a chunk out of Amalia's body, but, just as it came in close. Amalia swung at it's jaw, knocking it away. In a stunning display of courage, or stupidity, the girl jumped on the Dragon's mouth, and started swinging away at it's nose and eyes.

After hacking away at it, The Dragon finally gave up the ghost, and went limp. Jumping off the now defeated Dragon, Amalia sheathed her sword and waited.

Panting, Becia ran up to her cousin, setting her battle axe down, she leaned on it.

"By Ysmir's beard, that was...that was…." She stammered.

"Becia. Look." Sigmund said.

The Dragon's body began to dissolve, it's flesh and scales becoming ether, flowing through the air and swarming around the Dragonborn. The Dragon's soul was being absorbed. A marvelous sight for any to behold.

That is, until, the Breton started laughing.

"Heheheheehehehe." The Dragonborn began to giggle, turning to the dumbfounded guards, she flashed them a big smile, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It just tickles!"

"...Dibs." Becia said suddenly, causing Sigmund to sputter.

* * *

**Hello yet again, new chapter from the perspective of a normal guard. This mostly came out from the live action trailer, when watching, I noted the guard that was running away and I wondered how a normal person would react to this flying lizard which can breath, or shout, fire, and this guy. This, single, ordinary guy who walks up to them f****earlessly** and shouts them down. A once in a lifetime event for a guard, but for the Dragonborn, it's your warm up. Also, can anybody guess what Amalia was saying in Dragon? 

**Let's get this out of the way first, Amalia's equipment is a little different this time around, as you noticed. This is because most players don't stick with a select set of gear. Sure, you have your favorites, (Skyforge steel longsword with a soul trap enhancement for me.) but most of the time, they switch as needed. To but to help you out, Amalia mostly uses light armor with spells and two handed as her general exploration gear, heavy armor when expecting a large battle or heavy, and, because I like the series, goes Geralt of Riva when exploring tombs or monster hunting. That is, uses silver and steel in conjunction with light armor.**

**One last thing, I can't really say for certain that Amalia will get with somebody. On one hand, it'd be funny and a good chance to practice writing romance, but, on the other, I risk alienating their preferred ship,(meaning: couple.). Like, say, that one dark elf girl in the Collage, or those who prefer Farkas. Or that one high elf guy that every fan girl seems to swoon over. **

**Anyway, please, review! **

**Truly Wandering, Outlaw **


	6. This ain't Wonderland

Amalia Farseer liked to think she had a relatively normal schedule. Get waken up by Lydia, get dressed, fight off Thalmor Assassin/Dark Brotherhood, eat breakfast, say hi to neighbors, get arrested for trying to kill Nazeem, pay off fine, go for a morning run.

You know, normal stuff.

So this time, when Amalia was dumping out the body of the nauseous Thalmor that had decided to wait in a barrel for his attack, (She won that fight by smacking him with the lid and rolling him down the hill outside the gates until he gave up) Amalia was accosted by a message courier. It was then she would be sent on one her strangest adventures yet.

"Excuse me, miss? I've got a message for you." The courier said, reaching into his back knapsack and pulling out a letter, "Says it's from Falk Firebread, you've got some friends in high places."

Blinking, Amalia took the letter and skimmed it.

"Let's see here here...Wolfskull cave...Can't describe in detail...Blue palace?" Amalia furrowed her brow, "Oh right, the Jarl's place. Didn't even get to see her last time." Looking up, she went to thank the Courier, but discovered he was gone.

"Huh, he was self cleaning." Amalia said, nodding in approval.

"My Thane?" Lydia called out, "Are you done torturing that Thalmor yet?"

"Almost!" Amalia called back, then looked down to the high elf that was trying to crawl away, "Okay, you can go. See ya next week Ser."

Letting the Altmer go with his tail in between his legs, Amalia walked up to her Housecarl, "Pack your bags Lydia, we're going back to Solitude."

* * *

The trip to Solitude was a remarkably short one. Mostly because Lydia had insisted on using the carriage, despite Amalia's protests.

"Come on Lydia! Think of all the things we could see on the way!" She had tried very hard to make Lydia see her point of view. Lydia, for her part, countered by holding a shiny ring and throwing it in the carriage. Giving the driver the signal to go as soon as she jumped in.

As it turns out, much like a dog, Amalia can't resist shiny objects.

So, one carriage trip to the imperial capital of Skyrim latter, Amalia and Lydia walked through the streets of Solitude.

Ignoring Jaree-Ra's offer again, Amalia walked with her hands behind her head in a swaying walk.

"So, what do you think Falky wants to talk to us about?" Amalia asked, swishing around to face Lydia and started walking in reverse.

"Most likely he wants to discuss Wolfskull Cave. He did mention it in his letter." Lydia replied, scanning the letter as they walked.

"Huh. Didn't think he'd want to see us again." Amalia said offhandedly.

"Why's that, my Thane?"

Amalia cringed, "Well…."

"My Thane…."

"To be fair, I didn't spit on the back of his head." Amalia said in way of explanation, "But I may have...broken the lock to his house and ran through his house."

"You did _what?!"_

"To be fair, I wasn't naked. But I did have my weapon brandished."

"..._Why?_"

"You know I have a low alcohol tolerance! We shouldn't have gone drinking when we got back!"

"You live in the land of the Nords! You have _Nord parents!_"

"I'm an orphan! You know I'm adopted! _I've told you this!_"

"Even so!"

"What does that even mea-" Amalia was cut off as she bumped into somebody and lost her footing. Causing her, and the person she bumped into, to fall to the ground with a loud _thud!_

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Scrambling upright, Amalia quickly held a hand to whoever she had bumped into, "Are you okayeehhh?"

"My Thane?"

The mer she had bumped into, a dark skinned bosmer wearing farmer's clothes and a hat. Utterly ordinary, but, his eyes were mad, and black as chaos with twin piercing lights for pupils.

Whatever the reason for it, the mer didn't seem to care all that much he had ran into, in fact, he seemed to be focused on another thing entirely.

"You! You'll help me! You help people, right? That's what you do!" He rambled on, "Please! Won't you help me?"

"Uh…." Amalia looked to Lydia for help, who quickly flashed her the "No" sign, "Sure! What do you need?" Amalia asked, smiling at the mer.

Lydia face palmed.

"My master had abandoned me! Abandoned his people! And now he refuses to even see me! He says I interrupt his vacation! It's been so many years…." The mer drowned on.

"Why don't you just leave your master then?" Amalia asked.

"Oh, you just don't understand. Without him, I am not free! Without him, I am doomed! All of his empire shall fall into chaos..."

Amalia and Lydia shared a look.

"What empire? Who is your master?" Amalia asked, bewildered.

"He is a great man, but one rarely praised! He rules twin empires that span the length and breadth of our minds! All know him, but few can name him! But... he has forbidden me from saying his name. He says it distracts him, and woe to those who draw his ire. But you will know him when you see him. He's the one who made me like this!" The Mer explained loudly, earning weird looks from passersby.

"My Thane, I believe this elf is insane. We should leave." Lydia whispered into Amalia's ear.

"But Lydia...He needs our help." Amalia whispered back.

"I know you like to help others but there are limits." Lydia responded.

"But….Okay." Finally receding under Lydia's look, Amalia raised her hand and started to walk away, "Sorry mister...whoever you are, we'll look for your master if we can, but there's not much we can do."

They had made it all of one foot before a hand grabbed Amalia from behind her spinning around with surprising strength, the mer held up an item.

A..._hip bone?_

"Last I saw him, he was visiting a friend in the Blue Palace. But no one as mundane as the Jarl. No, no... such people are below him. No, he went into the forbidden wing of the palace, to speak with an old friend. Said it had been ages since they had last had tea." Shoving the hip bone into her hands, the mer continued talking, "Oh and you'll need the hip bone... it's very important. No entering Pelagius' Wing without that."

Stunned temporarily, Amalia glanced down at the hip bone in her hands, "Hey, what's the big-" Looking up, Amalia blinked, "idea?"

The mer was gone, and the Dragonborn and Housecarl were the only ones left in the streets.

* * *

Entering through the doors yet again and ascending the steps, Amalia walked up to Falk Firebread and nodded in hello. He merely sent a small glare her way in return.

"Hehe...Hey Falkly...sorry about ruining your vase…."

"You cut it clean in half."

"It was an accident! I swear."

"Dragonborn, you broke into my house."

"...I'm not that great at holding my liquor." Amalia admitted sheepishly.

"...Quite." Falk said, rubbing his head.

"Hehe, anyway, I got a letter from you about wolfskull cave?" Amalia asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid it's not good news. When you broke up the bindings Potema escaped. We've encountered some of her minions." Falk began, "Styrr says she's still in spirit form or we'd all be dead already. You've already done us a service in stopping the binding, but I need you to go talk to him, see if Styrr can tell us what to do next."

"Whose Styrr?" Amalia asked.

"He's Solitude's priest of Akray." Falk explained, "He's the one who figured out Potema was still around. He'll help us as much as he can."

"I'll talk to Styrr. We'll figure something out." Amalia nodded.

You could hear the gratefulness in Falk's voice. "I wish you well, be careful."

"One last thing, I need to get into the Pelagius wing."

Then came the stone dead: "Absolutely not."

"Why not?!"

"That wing has been sealed for hundreds of years, and for good reason. They say the ghost of Pelagius the Mad still haunt it." Falk responded.

Amalia thought back to all the times she had encountered a dead person in a tomb.

"_I'm sorry!"_

"_Fus Ro Dah!"_

"_Unslaad Koriss!_

"_Qiilaan Us Dilon!"_

"_Volsung!"_

She found it hard to disagree with him.

"I can see how, but still…."

"Besides, ghost or not, there are reminders of his dark rule that are best left buried away." Falk stated flatly.

"Falk, you know I'll be careful. I'm not drunk anymore!" Amalia protested. Even in her mind, Amalia had to admit it was a pretty weak defense, "Come on, please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?" Amalia gave him her best doe eye expression. Now keep in mind, Amalia may have a fun loving personality, but lately she had been taking on more...dragon traits. So it was less "cutesy doe" and more "dragon trying to look nice." It had...quite the effect.

Feeling a sense of dread creep up his spine, Falk Firebread relented, "Fine. I'll make an exception for you. But do not bring anything out when you leave, too many dark deeds transpired in those halls…."

"Yay! You're the best Steward ever!" Giving Falk a quick hug, Amalia grabbed Lydia before she had a chance to protest and dragged her into the east wing.

"...We're all doomed." Falk observed calmly, causing Sybille behind him to snort.

* * *

"My Thane, what are you doing?!" Lydia demanded to know as Amalia held onto her arm as they entered the Pelagius wing. True to how Falk described it, the entire place was covered in cobwebs, smelled of dusty tomes, and even gave off a sense of foreboding.

"Just keep going la de la!" Amalia sang, walking through the halls with a quick pace.

"My Thane! Wait one moment!" Lydia curled her fingers and wrenched her arm outta Amalia's grasp, "What has gotten into you?"

Amalia shrunk back meekly, "Well, it's just...spiders."

"Spiders." Lydia repeated, just to make sure she heard this right.

"Spiders."

Lydia, at this point, sighed. She was starting to get used to Amalia's quirks, but this was getting a little ridiculous. In their adventures, they had taken down all kinds of creatures; dragons, men, beasts, a scary looking clown, and everything in between. So, it was a little hard to swallow that the Dragonborn, slayer of evil, would be scared by such a little thing.

"But, what about the frostbite spiders?" Lydia asked, "You've killed plenty of those,"

"Well, yeah, but those are so big so they're easy to hit." Amalia answered.

"...Honor to you, my Thane." Lydia sighed, dropping the topic.

Searching the rooms of Pelagius the Mad, Amalia and Lydia traversed the deadly spider webs of evil….and pain...and origin stories.

"Hey Lydia." Amalia spoke up.

"Yes my Thane?"

"When do you think we'll find this Pelagius guy?"

"My Thane, he's been dead for hundreds of years. It's most likely his body has degraded over time, if it's here at all." Lydia answered.

Coming to an empty hallway, Amalia walked forward through the cobwebs.

"I have a bad feeling about this…" Lydia said forebodingly.

Amalia turned to stare at her as she walked on ahead, "I have a bad feeling? Now something bad really is gonna-"

* * *

"Happen?"

She was no longer walking through the hallway, that much was certain. Instead, she was standing in a clearing in a misty forest, a table filled to the brim with fine dining sat in the center, stone archways lined the landscape. Looking down, Amalia noticed with some surprise that she was no longer wearing her usual light armor, instead, she was wearing fine clothes and a hat.

"More tea, Pelly, my dear?" An odd voice lined thick with an accent spoke up. Eyes darting to the source of the noise, Amalia saw two people dining at the table. One of them wore a very distance outfit, with an odd contrast of colors. The other...not so much. In fact, in Amalia's humble opinion, she thought he could use a tan….and maybe some time not in a misty forest that looked like something out a horror story.

"Oh I couldn't. Goes right through me." The depressed man said, "Besides, I have so many things to do…So many undesirables to contend with. Naysayers. Buffons. Detractors! Why, my headsman hasn't slept in three days!"

"You are far too hard on yourself, my dear, sweet, homicidally insane Pelagius. What would the people here do without you? Dance? Sing? Grow old?" The other man said in a jolly tone, "You are the best Septim that's ever ruled. Well, expect for that Martin fellow, but he turned into a dragon god, and that's hardly sporting…"

Amalia blinked, having walked up to the table as the two chatted on. Too engrossed in their conversation to notice her. But, did the jolly man say Pelagius? As in...Pelagius the Mad? Wasn't he dead? And if that was the case….where was she?

"I don't think we're in Skyrim anymore Toto…." She whispered to herself.

"You know, I was there for that whole sordid affair. Marvelous time! Butterflies, blood, a Fox, a severed head….Oh, and the cheese! To die for." The man with the strange clothes recalled fondly.

The supposedly deceased Emperor sighed, "Yes, yes, as you said, countless times before."

"Funny bread man" looked offended by this, "Hafrumph! Well then, if you're going to be like that….Perhaps I should take my leave! Good day to you sir. I said good day!" He proclaimed harshly, causing Amalia to giggle at the sound of his voice. Honestly, it was hard to take him seriously. Granted, all the casual talk of blood and what not was a little off putting...but Amalia lived in a place where the locals revered battle and bloodshed, so by now she was a little used to it.

Pelagius the Mad didn't seem bothered by this however, "Yes, yes go. Leave me to my ceaseless responsibilities and burdens…" With that said, and all done, the Mad Emperor disappeared in an orb of arcane energy.

Leaving only Amalia and the madman in the clearing.

"How rude!" The remaining man proclaimed, (though Amalia doubted he was a "man" at all), "Can't be bothered to host for an old friend for a decade or two."

Taking that as an admission of existence, Amalia raised her hand, "Hello."

"Greeting lass! What can I do for you?" The man replied in a cheery tone.

"If you don't mind me asking, who were you talking to?"

"Emperor Pelagius the Third." The man answered without a beat.

"...Isn't he dead?"

"Now surely even you know about Pelagius decree Dragon lass? On his deathbed-oh, and this was inspired-he forbade...death! That's right! Death! Outlawed!"

"...How'd that work out for him?"

"Pretty well, actually. Did _wonders _for the local bandits. You should've seen it! Blood! Debrauchy! Falling _Watermelons! _Ah, good times." The man remembered, a smile plastered on his face.

"Huh. Well, do you know where we are?" Amalia asked, looking around.

"Inside the mind of Pelagius, silly." The man replied without missing a beat.

"...What."

"World's best accent" blinked, "Oh, is this your... first time?"

"...I really don't like the way you said that." Amalia said, a feeling of confusement welling up in her stomach.

"Ha! What till Martin hears of this! He's going to be throwing such a-"

"_Moving_ on. I think I'm supposed to deliver a message." Amalia said brusquely.

"Reeaaaallllyyyy?" "Strangely golden eyes" drawled out. Wait….

"Um, by any chance, are you-" Amalia began, but was cut off.

"Ooh, ooh, what kind of message? A song? A summons? Wait, I know! A death threat written on the back of an Argonian concubine! Those are my favorite."

"..."

"Well, spit it out mortal! I haven't got an eternity! Actually, I do. Little joke. But seriously, what is the message?" The immortal demanded.

"I was asked by this one guy to get you to come off from your vacation...I think." Amalia answered.

"Weere you now. By whom." The daedric said, not asked, said, "WAIT! Don't tell me, I want to guess." Rubbing his bread, the mad god thought for a moment, "Was it Molag? No, no….Little Tim, the toymaker's son ah?! The ghost of King Lysandus? AH! Or was it...Yes! Stanely, that talking grapefruit from Passwall, haha!"

Amalia blinked.

"Wrong on all accounts aren't I?"

The dragonborn nodded dumbly.

"Ha! No matter! Honestly, I don't want to know. Why ruin the surprise?" Crossing his arms, the daedric looked at Amalia, but, it was more like he was looking into her soul.

"Uhh…"

"But more to the point-Do you," His voice took on a deadly edge, "tiny, puny, expendable little mortal-actually think you can convince _me_ to leave?"

"Yes?" Amalia said without thinking.

"Because that's...crazy. You do know who you're dealing with here?"

"A madman?"

"Jolly good guess! But only half right. I'm a mad god. _The Mad God, _actually. It's a family title. Gets passed down from me to myself every few thousand years. But _you. _You can call me Ann Marie."

"Why-"

"But only if you're partial to being _flayed_ alive and having an angry immortal skip roope with your entails. If not, then call me, Sheogorath, Daedric prince of Madness. Charmed."

"Oh. Um, Amalia Farseer. Dragonborn, nice to meet you?" Amalia bowed, she didn't know why, but it seemed...respectful?

"Nice to meet you lass! Now, quit staring at the ground, it hasn't done anything yet! Or...has it?" Sheogorath's golden eyes quickly darted to the ground as well, as if expecting it to attack at any moment.

The silence continued for some time.

"Well...um….Are you going to go back...or…?"

"Well, now, that's the real question isn't it? Because, honestly, how much time off could a demented Daedra really need?" Without waiting for an answer, Sheogorath clapped his hands together, "So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to leave. That's right. I'm done. Holiday... complete. Time to return to the hum drum day to day. On one condition."

Amalia tilted her head.

"You have to find the way out first. Good luck with that."

"What's the catch?"

"Ha! I do love it when the mortals knows that they're being manipulated. Makes things infinitely more interesting." Stepping out from his throne, the Daedric prince spread his arms out, guiding Amalia's attention to the surrounding area, "Care to take a look around? This is not, dare I say, not the Solitude botanical gardens. Have you any idea where you are? Where you truly are?"

"...The mind of a dead monarch?" Amalia said.

"That's right! How did you know? Can you read minds? Cause I knew a man who could do that once. Bit of an ass, really. Easy to beat in cards though, aaahhh the irony."

"Uhhh...you told me like five minutes ago." Amalia said, scratching the back of her head.

"Oh right. That I did. So, _what are you going to do about that?" _Sheogorath's voice went from calm and jolly, to "can make a dragon back down" in one interval.

"...eep." Was all Amalia could think to say.

"Ah, I'm just jossing with ya! But, back to the subject at hand, I know what you're thinking. Can I still rely on my swords and spells and sneaking and all that nonsense? Sure...Sure...But you could use…"

Just like that, a four foot long metal staff plopped into Amalia's hands. It was heavy, and even a novice could tell it was filled to the brim with demented power.

Sheogorath, taking a seat back on his throne, gave off a charming but homicidal smile, "The Wabbajack! Huh! Huh? Bet you didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Errr…." Amalia shifted the staff around in her hands, trying to get a feel for it.

"Now then lass, off you go." The Prince said, waving his hand.

"Go? Go where?" Amalia asked, stopping her weight testing/twirling.

"To Pelagius's mind silly! Unless, of course, you're lost. But that's impossible. Just follow the arrows! They always tell ya where to go! Or is that the yellow brick road?"

"Uhh…."

"Well, wait are you waiting for? You have a quest don't you? Hop to it!" Clapping his hands, Amalia took the message and headed off towards one of the stone arches.

"Huramph, kids these days. Dear old Martin's not gonna be happy to hear this, but not to worry, I've got his favorite feather spell all nice and ready for him! Hope his granddaughter doesn't mind it though."

* * *

Passing through one the arches, and hugging herself to pass off the sudden chill, Amalia walked through a narrow passway in the forest.

"You've headed down the path of dreams." Sheogorath's voice came in, as clear as day, "Unfortunately for you, Pelagius suffered night terrors from a young age. All you need to do, is find something to wake our poor Pelagius up. You'll find his terrors easy to repel...but persistent."

Coming to another clearing, there sat a large, two person bed with a small child lying in it. The world also seemed to take on a slightly red color. Amalia chalked it up to it being a mind of a dead guy and left it at that.

Walking up to the bed, Amalia snapped her fingers in front of his face. That didn't work. So, she tried pulling on his ear, no dice. Tapped him with the end of the Wabbajack. No luck.

This went on for a while, long enough for Amalia to let out a loud "Eufff!" And let out a charged blast from the staff to the kid.

THAT had some effect.

Namely, a three foot tall wolf came out of no where and rushed her. Reacting quickly, Amalia jumped back to the side, letting the wolf sail past her. Undeterred, it bared it's fangs and charged again. Twirling her staff in an elaborate pattern, Amalia knocked the wolf clean out of the air in one swipe.

"Heh, take that you little...oh come on."

For whatever reason, the wolf was completely undamaged, despite having a metal staff smack into the side of it's head, it remained unharmed.

Sighing, Amalia charged up the Wabbajack again, this time as the Wolf prepared for another charge, but low and behold, it warped and twisted with a swirl of red energy into...a goat.

"Baaah." It moaned, then went to munch on some grass.

"...Huh. That happened." Amalia looked over to where the child lay, figuring that hitting him with another spell was the only way to proceed. Upon doing so, a redguard bandit chef dressed in steel armor showed up out of nowhere.

"Now, ain't this a surprise." She, it, said, swinging her war axe at Amalia's head. Bringing up the staff just in time, Amalia blocked the axe head under the little space between the handle and the blade. Twisting the axe, and the arm along with it, Amalia shoved the Wabbajack into the bandit's stomach, where she promptly unleashed another spell along with it.

This one turned into a small boy, who promptly turned and walked away. Completely ignoring Amalia.

Blinking, Amalia just settled on blasting the mad child with another shot from Wabbajack, she was starting to get used to this…

This time, an old, batty hagraven appeared. Which let out a fireball at Amalia, who, in return, just let out another shot from the staff. She was a Berton after all, high magicka resistance for the win.

As the Hagraven transformed into a wench in slutty clothing, Amalia gave Pelagius a quick smack on the head and another Wabbajack shot for good measure. This one turned out to be a flame Atronach, but a quick shot quickly ended that far fire.

"How many of these things are there?" Amalia asked no one in particular, looking at the newly made bonfire.

With a bored look, she shot the Pelagius child one last time.

There was a rattling of bones. Turning around, Amalia saw that one of her worst enemies had appeared. A dragon priest, servants of Dragons during the war. Horrible people who performed horrible deeds to their fellow man. Each of them now lay in rest in select coffins scattered across Skyrim, waiting for some adventurer to wake them from their eternal slumber.

Amalia blasted it with another Wabba-shot and smiled as it turned into a chest. Seemed legit.

"Well, that's something to crow about." Sheogorath's voice came in again, "With Pelagius up and about and you moving right along. We'll both be home in no time."

Taking a look at the now fully grown Pelagius, Amalia shrugged and walked back through the stone archway.

* * *

"Oh, good choice. Well, good for me. I find everyone being out to get ya is so terribly entertaining. You might find it...less so."

"You have no idea…."

Using the Wabbajack as a walking stick, Amalia sighed, these days, seemed like everyone _was _out to get her. Some Nords thought she should take the chance to become high king, the Companions wanted her to become Harbinger, the mages thought she would be an excellent master, the imperials wanted her to join them, the stormcloaks said that as Dragonborn, she should exile anyone from Skyrim who wasn't a Nord.

That, and the Thalmor wanted her dead. Oh, and some guy kept putting out an assassination contract out on her, if the Dark Brotherhood was any indication. Also, she couldn't walk ten feet without getting into some kind of trouble. It was like some force was making sure her life was moderately interesting.

"You see, Pelagius's mother was...well….let us say "unique." Sheogorath pondered, "Though, I suppose in the grand scheme of things, she was fairly average for a Septim. That woman, wielded fear like a cleaver. Or did she wield a cleaver and made people afraid? I never get that part right."

Coming up to a stone colosseum, Amalia made her way up the steps, with Sheogorath talking on in the background, "Oh, but she taught her son well. Pelagius learned at a very young age that danger could come from anywhere. At any time. Delivered...by anyone."

Finally arriving at the top, Amalia stumbled upon a strange scene. Well, not so much "strange" as, "out of place." Two storm Atronachs were at the ground floor. Beating the everloving crap outta each other while three men in Dwarven armor sat on the other side. Watching the combat with an air of disinterest.

"The objective here is simple, you simpleton! Use your Wabbajack to defeat the enemy, while they do the same!"

Amalia took a look down at the two forces beating the everlasting mead out of the other. With a curious glance, she sent a spell down to one of them, causing a storm atronach to transform into a frost one.

"Huh." She sent another at it, causing it to transform into a fire one. Giggling, she looked up to the three men and sent a Wabbajack spell that way. Sure enough, the two men transformed into dogs.

"Oho! I'd thought you'd never figure it out." Sheogorath's voice came in, sounding jolly as ever, "With the threat gone Pelagius is under the delusion that he is safe, which means you've helped him...sort of. And we're that much closer to home."

Blinking, a frown came onto Amalia's face, "But I was having fuuunnnn…." She whimpered, walking back down the steps.

* * *

"Okay last one."

Passing through the last archway, Amalia walked through a blue forest. Literally. The very air was colored a depressing blue.

"Ah, now this is a sad path. Pelagius hated and feared many things. Assassins, wild dogs, the undead, pumpernickel..."

"But….Pumpernickel is delicious!" Amalia shouted back to the heavens.

"But the deepest, keenest, hatred, was for himself."

Sheogorath's words were true. Coming to the last clearing, Amalia saw a large imperial soldier beating upon a small, insecure Pelagius.

"The attacks he makes on himself can be seen here fully. They are always carried out on the weakest part of his fragile self." Sheogorath narrated as the soldier beated on the smaller man, "The self loathing enhances Pelagius's anger! Ah, but his confidence will shrink with every hit. You must bring the two into balance."

Taking this as a clue to, "Hit something with the Wabbajack until something happens." Amalia settled on blasting the smaller man until he was equal to the larger soldier, then Amalia blasted him until he was as small as the man. Some ghosts came out with weapons, but they proved to be an annoyance at best.

Soon enough, Pelagius the Mad's confidence stood tall, while his anger remained little. Still put up a fight though.

"Huh." Amalia said, watching the little anger swing away at the much larger confidence, who was completely ignoring it.

"Wonderfully done. Pelagius is finally ready to love himself...and continue hating everyone else."

* * *

With all three said and done, Amalia walked up to the Daedra, "I've done it. Pelagius's mind is fixed. Can I go home now?" She asked.

"Hmmmm... "Fixed" is such a subjective term. I think "treated" is far more appropriate, don't you? Like one does to a rash, or an arrow in the face." Sheogorath pondered, but shook his head,: "Ah, but no matter. Heartless mortal that you are, you've actually succeeded and survived. I am forced to honor my end of the bargain. So congratulations! You're free to go!"

Amalia sighed in relief.

"I... have been known to change my mind. So... go. Really."

Amalia froze up, then took a step back from the Mad God.

"Pelagius Septim the Third, once the Mad Emperor of Tamriel, now so boringly sane. I always knew he had it in him!" Sheogorath said, causing Amalia to furrow her brow.

"Wait...did you come here to-?"

"Well, I suppose it's back to the Shivering Isles. The trouble Haskill can get into while I'm gone simply boggles the mind…" Shegorath said, ignoring her, "Let's make sure I'm not forgetting anything. Clothes?" He looked down at his chest, "Check. Beard?" He rubbed his chin, "Check! Luggage? Luggage! Now where did I leave my luggage?" Looking around, Sheogorath snapped his fingers. Another orb of daedric energy, and there stood the Mer she had bumped into earlier today.

"Hey….you're…" Amalia began.

"Master! You've taken me back! Does this mean we're going home? Oh, happy times! I can't wait to..." He exclaimed joyfully.

Rubbing his head irritably, Sheogorath sighed.

"Yes, yes, that's quite enough celebration. Let's send you ahead, shall we?" Snapping his fingers, the Mer disappeared again.

Turning to Amalia, the prince of madness shrugged his shoulders, "And as for you, my little mortal Dragon minion... Feel free to keep the Wabbajack. As a symbol of my... Oh, just take the damn thing." Waving his hand, Sheogorath grinned, "You take care of yourself, now. And if you ever find yourself up in New Sheoth, do look me up. We can share a strawberry torte. Ta ta! Oh, and you're granddaddy says you're doing a great job."

Amalia blinked, "My granddad? What do you-"

* * *

"Mean?"

Stumbling forward, Amalia fell to the ground.

"My Thane?!"

Lydia? Oh right….The Blue Palace...searching for a body...

"Are you alright?!" Rushing to her side, Lydia grabbed the Dragonborn to rest on her knees, which were armored and therefore uncomfortable, but it was the thought that counts.

"I'm fine I'm fine…." Amalia said, rubbing her skull, "I think I have a headache…" Wincing, Amalia sat up, "Yep, definitely have a headache."

"My Thane, where did you get those clothes?" Lydia asked while fishing around in her nipsack for a healing potion.

"I think I met the Daedric Prince of Madness…" Amalia admitted, "Oh hey...still got this thing." In her hands was the Wabbajack, a strange staff of even stranger properties.

"My Thane, what happened to you?" Lydia asked, taking the silly hat off her head.

"Some strange adventure in a mad man's mind with a mad god." Amalia answered, feeling rather light headed at the moment.

Forcing herself upwards, Amalia tired to step forward but stumbled yet again. Luckily Lydia caught her.

"My Thane, don't try to move." Lydia cautioned, handing Amalia a healing potion who quickly gulped it down with a quick "Thanks."

"Ugh, Lydia, don't ever let me take any more hip bones. Okay?"

"Duly noted, my Thane."

* * *

**Allo allo! Sorry for the long wait everyone. I've been busy with things like life...and Comic Con...and League of Legends...and RWBY. You know, things like that. Anyway, this mostly came out of popular demand from some people I regularly talk to. But, I hope you all like it! And if someone makes a T.V tropes page for this, you are the best person, ever. Seriously. **

**Anyway, enough talking to myself, thank you all for reading! I hope to update soon.**

**Truly Wandering, Outlaw.**


	7. Not so gentlemanly

_Gentleman's guide to Whiterun. Revised Edition. _

_Hello yet again, good sir, to this much sought after guide to the crown jewel of the north. Whiterun. To any of my previous readers, I'm sure you're wondering why I, Mikael, famous bard, extraordinary playwright, and, if I do say so myself, loved everywhere by women anywhere, feel the need to rewrite an already perfect novel._

_The answer is simple of course. I made a grievous mistake when I forgot to include two very gorgeous women who deserved to be showered with praise. _

_Now, I know what you're thinking, "But Sir Mikael, when you wrote the first edition, they had not became world famous Dragon Slayers yet." Ah, you would be correct, but, that is no excuse not to include the gentle sweetness that is Amalia Farseer, the Dragonborn. And the savage beauty that is Lydia, the Housecarl. Both have taken up residence in the Breezehome that is in the Plains District of Whiterun. _

_Should you wish to learn more about them please flip the page over until you reach the section detailing their exquisite values. But then, you would miss out on all the glorious information I have to offer. _

_Now then, onto the introduction, the main idea of Whiterun is..._

* * *

_Ah, here we are. The two newest celebrities of Skyrim. Amalia Farseer and Lydia the Housecarl. As many are aware, the two are rarely seen without each other, but, in such a way that their radiant qualities can only be appreciated by a true artist. Both have taken up housing in the Breezehome, a quaint little house next to the Warmaiden's. _

_Amalia Farseer, the Dragonborn, is a Berton lass, short of stature with hair of fire and amber eyes. Her adorable nature and free spirit hide a warrior's heart and a magician's mind. Make no mistake, entrepreneurs, she is unmarried, and has a mighty swing with a great sword. Having slain the World Eater, a blacken beast of vile and becoming a prominent member of both the Companions, and the Mage's college, Amalia is a worthy wife for any sutor. Be quick, for this Dragonborn shall not remained unwed for long, not if I have anything to say about it!_

_Yet, her ever loyal companion is no simple wench, Housecarl Lydia is strong Nord women who has accompanied Amalia on her many adventures. Her hair black, and with the songs of Skyrim at her back, Lydia has been the bulwark to Amalia's gentle soul. Her heart is of steel, yet, this only hides the kind nature hidden underneath a layer of that classic nord exterior. Unmarried as well, Lydia is available to any man who catches her fancy. Other than myself of course._

_Make haste, if you can, these two make their lives by roaming around Skyrim, searching for adventures evermore. But, if you're lucky, you may just find them coming into the gates of Whiterun, or perhaps on the road, with the wind at their lovely backs._

* * *

It was a few days later after the book was published that some….unsavory types showed up at the front door of Breezehome. It was a few days later that Mikael suddenly went missing for a while. Only to return a day later with a black eye, refusing to answer any questions, he went back to his room and was not seen until a few days afterwards.

Strangely, at the same time, a new, new version of _A Gentleman's Guide to Whiterun _was released. This time, the part containing Amalia and Lydia was omitted. Why this happened, the world may never know.

* * *

Looking up from her book, Amalia raised an eyebrow as Lydia ate, their dinner in the Bannered Mare having finally arrived.

"Lydia….you didn't do anything to Mikael now did you?" She asked.

"Of course not my Thane." Lydia responded promptly.

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

"It's just, everytime I look at him, he shrinks away and tries not make eye contact." Amalia explained.

"Maybe he just finally learned his lesson." Lydia suggested.

"Lydia…."

"My Thane?"

"Did you, or did you not, do anything to Mikael?" Amalia questioned seriously.

"My Thane. I promise you, I did not lay one hand on Mikael." Lydia answered truthfully.

"Okay. Good. It's just…" Amalia said, tapping her fingers together, "I know you were unhappy with his new book, and all those men and women who came to our house."

"My Thane, you did not need to feed all of them as well."

"I was being nice!"

"My Thane, that only wanted them to stay more." _Until they tasted her food that is._ Lydia thought.

There was a reason why they either ate at the Bannered Mare or Lydia herself made most of their meals. Amalia had a lot of skills, cooking was not one of them.

"Well, anyway. I think we should go find some more words of power. I really wanna finish getting that Firebreath one. Oh, and we should probably find out who keeps sending these squid cult guys after me. Some guy named Miraak? Mirrak? Merry? Something like that."

As Amalia chatted on, a small note fell out of Lydia's napsack, it unfolded itself across the ground, and it said: _Thank you for your transaction. As per your request, Bard Mikael shall be kidnapped, upon which he shall be released a few days afterwards unharmed. He shall also be "convinced" to write a new Gentleman's Guide to Whiterun. As per the bonus, we shall also make sure he makes back to Whiterun, alive. _

_Although, if he tries to flirt with me, I'm going to punch him in the face. _

_Signed, Astrid of the Dark Brotherhood._

* * *

**Hello again. Short one today, I know. Not a lot to to talk about today...other then my tumblr account. Self advertising, I know. But if you have any questions about SAS (Strolling Across the Sky.) Don't be afraid to ask me there. I don't mind. The account name is Swordslinger95. Anyway, I hope you all have a great day. **

**Truly Wandering, Outlaw. **


	8. Drowning under the waves

Falling.

Falling through a murky swirl of water, unable to see, unable to move.

Drowning.

Drowning, pressure tight around her throat, the clamp of the weight pushing her downward.

Amalia's amber eyes slowly drew to a close, the light of the surface growing ever more distant with each passing moment. The beating of the current rushing in her ears, the Dragonborn sank ever deeper into the ocean's misty grasp.

Around her, the water turned blacker and blacker, the chilly depths of the sea swallowing her whole.

As she sunk closer to the ocean bed, the water began to heat up, turning red as blood. As she sank, a looming dragon seemed to rest nearby, his scales as black as a nightmare, his one blue eye open and watching her.

Across from it, a beast sitting upon a bloodsoaked throne sat, his red and golden eyes calmly observing her. A cup of red sat in his hand, taking a sip, he smirked as the Dovahkiin descended deeper.

Finally, a man, dressed in the garments of something akin to a monster, kneeled over Amalia's head, her half open eyes barely able to see him as the last glimmer of light slowly faded away.

With an almost amused huff, the man rose and snapped his fingers. The sound reverberating in the water.

At the man's command, demonic tentacles rose up, snatching Amalia by her legs and arms. Dragging her downwards even faster than before.

Opening her mouth to scream, Amalia let out a large gasp of breath, bubbles streaming out of her mouth as the precious oxygen was lost to her. Struggling with her remaining might, Amalia reached forward towards the faintest glimmer of light.

But it was too late, the maw had her, and they dragged her down into the blackest depths, her arm still reaching for the light.

Amalia's mind slowly numbed, and her vision turned black….

A hand grasped her arm, and pulled her up.

With ferocious speed, Amalia felt herself rocket towards the surface. Eyes struggling to stay open, she thought she saw a dark elf with a honest but pained smile.

A hooded man with a kind glance.

An old man with an valiant heart and a wolf's pride.

A wise man with a bread of grey.

A man with the storm as his cloak.

A blading general with a lion's heart.

A great man who lead the white horses.

A lady who bore a scroll on her back but bore a family's legacy.

A bladed warrior woman fighting a lost war.

A man call once foolish, but was proven right.

A large man with a warrior's heart.

A man bearing an helmet like an eagle.

A odd looking man with a hero's burden.

A bright looking man, with a dragon's eyes.

Finally, she broke the surface, and saw the face a woman she trusted above all others.

"My Thane!? Are you alright?!"

Pulled onto the boat, Amalia threw up all the water she had inadvertently swallowed, hacking and wheezing, Amalia let herself fall back into the small canoe.

"I-I'm fine." She said, letting the air flow into her lungs.

A small pain grew onto the back of her head, "What happened?" Amalia asked, rubbing the spot and noting the seaweed that had clamped around her arms and legs.

Lydia sent a glare behind Amalia, "_Someone_ wasn't watching where their fishing rod was going, and smacked you in the head."

"Sorry." A voice said gruffly behind her.

Turning, she saw Farkas rubbing the back of his head. Meanwhile, the rest of the assorted, (which, oddly, was made up of people she had helped along her adventures) fishing goers just let out sighs/grunts/laughs.

"I-It's alright." Amalia said, trying to sound upbeat as usual.

"Some fishing trip this turned out to be…" Lydia muttered.

"It's not that bad. Look how much fish we got!" Amalia said, pointing to a grand total of one small salmon.

"...Long life to you, My Thane." Lydia said, smiling despite herself.

* * *

**Hey there, sorry for the long wait, but I was mostly trying to come up with something and failing, then I heard Diver from Naruto Shippuden and thought, "eh, I like it." I was also trying to come up with some kind of origin story for Lydia, but I couldn't make up anything that would suit me. So I was more or less beating my head against the wall for an idea. **

**Also, I am also working on other projects, like learning how to draw, becoming a decent sniper in video games despite being more of a jack of all trades, and just being lazy in general. **

**Lastly, can you name all the people who Amalia saw when she was underwater? Name them all and you get...something. I dunno. Make something up if you want.**

**Truly Wandering, Outlaw.**


	9. To light a torch

**Hey there, uh, Spoiler warning for DSII. Just letting you know here and now.**

* * *

Elina, last name unknown mostly due to being Undead for an indescribable amount of time, current Monarch of Drangleic and slayer of demons and countless Undead and whatnot, was currently completely bored out of her mind. Sitting alone, in her Faraam armor, on the Throne of Want, utterly submerged in darkness, head resting against open palm. It was hard to believe, but yes, a Undead, even one that hadn't lost it's mind, could get bored. Elina, truth be told, was starting to wonder if that's why so many of them had lost it. There was nothing to do in Drangleic. Hell, at first, Elina went along with Shallote because, well, she looked like needed the help. But later on, after dodging countless deathtraps and slain who knows how many enemies, plus dying a helluva lot, she went along with solely for the entertainment factor. The sheer thrill of beating a tough area was enough for the cursed Undead to go on exploring. Plus, you know, dying wasn't that bad once you got used to it. The first time scared the living hell out of Elina, but as time wore on, the only look she could give those who slayed her was a dry, almost pitying look, like: "Great job, won't help you next time though." She supposed that she could go Hollow if she stayed Undead long enough...but, she had enough human effigies to last her a while, not to mention still being human currently. Plus, last she checked, people could still retain their minds if their will was strong enough, and who had a stronger will than her?

Anyway, there didn't seem to be any real network of roads between locations. Despite the fact she had traversed the entirety of Drangleic, or whatever it was called now, (Elina was starting to think Elinavile. Hey, not like anyone would object) she had mostly gotten by with tunnels and side passageways.

She was also starting to wonder if some of the tougher enemies she fought just let her pass because they were tired of her constantly showing up on their doorstep, always using the same damn, "roll around behind them and hack at their legs" until they keeled over and died. Hey, wasn't her fault if they didn't realize their attack patterns were so easy to read.

But, more to the point, Elina tapped her fingers against the armrests of the stone chair, wondering what to do now. She still had that feather thing, so maybe she could warp back to the last bonfire she rested at. Then again, what would she do if she got back? Sit around Majula? It had a nice, strange never setting sun, and a bunch of nice people around. Well, nice, in the subjective sense of the word.

Most of them probably couldn't remember their own names, but still.

And some of them were, if Elina was being honest, kinda jerks. Melentia was kinda loony, Carhillion was a teeny weeny bit arrogant, that shopkeeper whose name Elina couldn't remember was a jerk, Gilligan was shifty, and Lica….well, the day Elina threw her off a cliff would be a good one. Runs on faith, psh, Vendrick's bottoms.

Still, that depressed guy on the hill was kinda nice, the blacksmith and his daughter were alright, Cale was a nice distraction, Rosabeth was just nice to talk to. The Emerald Herald, Shallote, was...okay. It would be nice if she said something other than something dark and gloomy for once. Hell, Lucatiel even said nice things every once in while….after Elina dragged her to Majula by her coat tails, and force fed her a human effigy.

Hey, not her fault Elina couldn't speak, also not her fault Lucatiel apparently didn't receive the same intro she did.

Then again….those three old ladies weren't, exactly the best welcoming committee, so maybe it was for the besstt….?

Anyway, back to figuring out what to do.

Elina guessed she could sleep, hell, nothing better to do. But...how would she know when she woke up? It was hard enough to see already out of the helmet, and it was already pitch black in there. She didn't want to go stumbling through her stuff for a flame butterfly, she might accidently pull out some weapon of mass destruction she, somehow, despite all forms of logic and physical matter,kept in her knapsack.

But...she was so bored, so maybe….

But the throne was damnably uncomfortable, sitting in a suit of plate armor on solid rock was _not _good for the tush. Could she even get to sleep like this? Hell, did she even _need _to sleep? Elina hadn't spent any time resting on her little romp through the land, never really wanted to. The only thing she got close to a "rest" was when she hung out in Majula testing out new weapons in a reasonably safe area. But other than that….not really.

Oh well, first time for everything, Elina guessed.

Slowly closing her eyes, Elina, the Undead hero, went to sleep.

* * *

Amalia was having an off day, if she was being honest. First, she got up on the wrong side of the bed, as in, off the bed. Which was just weird. Second, Lydia seemed grouchy this time of the month, not really sure why, but Amalia wasn't about to ask. Third….well, truth be told, those were the only two things, but still! There was a third somewhere in there. Somewhere...lurking….hiding the in shadows, waiting for a chance to strike. Waiting for the shoe to drop, longing for the last sweet roll that was clearly Amalia's.

Speaking of which, Amalia's stomach growled, causing her to frown.

"I'm hungry." She said, leaning on her greatsword.

"That's nice my Thane." Lydia said, preoccupied.

"You wanna grab something to eat after we're done with this?" Amalia asked casually.

"That's nice my Thane." Lydia responded.

"...You're not even paying attention are you?" Amalia said deadpan.

Lydia ducked under a bandit's sword swing, ramming her shield into his stomach, causing him to stumble and sputter for breath. A second bandit, this one an orc, tired to go for an overhand swing with his great axe, but Lydia quickly stepped to the side and cut his neck with a simple swing of her sword, letting him stumble and fall to the ground. The first one, now somewhat recovered, tired to make a swing with his sword. Lydia just caught the bastard's arm mid swing and started socking him in the gut with her sword arm before finally introducing the back of his head to the ground.

"You done?" Amalia asked, resting her arm against the hilt of her sword.

"I'm sorry, what did you say my Thane?" Lydia asked, wiping the blood off her sword.

"I said-"

"Scurvy wench! You'll die for that!"

Amalia looked over to the bandit chief with a bloody nose, apparently now speaking in pirate lingo. Raising an eyebrow, Amalia just shook her head.

"Scurvy wench? Really? You really couldn't think of anything better than that?" She asked, completely dismissing the chief as a threat.

Needless to say, that caused the chief, who was a imperial by the way, to go red with rage and charge at Amalia. Who simply stood there, still leaning on the greatsword.

"Hey, I'd look up if I were you." Amalia said suddenly, checking her fingernails.

Stopping mid charge, the imperial looked flabbergasted at Amalia's complete nonchalance.

"Look up? What in Talos's name do you mean by-"

There was a loud splat sound.

"For the large object falling out of the sky, of course." Amalia calmly informed the now dead bandit, who was, at this point, more or less a mess of bones and blood.

"My Thane?" Lydia called over.

"I'm fine Lydia!" Amalia called back, looking to the new...thing that had decided to make a crash landing.

What that "thing" was a person of some-sort dressed in heavy grey armor that Amalia didn't recognize. It vaguely reminded her of a lion, plus she liked the nice half skirt-half coat thing it had on. As of now, it was laying on it's back and she couldn't see it's face.

"Hey there!" Amalia said in greeting, walking up to the thing and extending a hand, "There are better places to take a nap then on the ground you know."

The "person dressed in heavy armor" slowly raised it's head. No, very much _her _head. Lifting her head, the helmet slowly came off, revealing a head of golden blond and green eyes. Rubbing her head, the newcomer slowly looked to Amalia, then at her extended hand. Looking at it with a cautious look, she slowly raised her hand.

Lydia, off to the side, saw the dangerous gleam of a longsword's blade shine in it's sheath, and the women's left hand was too close to it.

"My Thane!" Lydia yelled, starting to sprint towards Amalia.

But found her fears unwarranted, the armored glove only came up to grab Amalia's hand and accepted the help up.

"Soo….who are you?" Amalia asked, as Lydia walked up to the two.

"..." The newcomer titled her head, but quickly took notice of the Housecarl's drawn sword and shield. Stepping backwards, the girl drew her sword quickly, assuming a combat stance, which, in turn, cause Lydia to take one as well.

"Hey, hey! Easy now! We're not gonna hurt each other! Okay?" Amalia said, stepping in between the two.

"My Thane, you need to be more cautious." Lydia replied sternly, "We don't know who this person is, and….what are you doing?"

The newcomer, for some reason, performed an elegant roll to the side, trying to get behind Lydia.

Who in turn, countered this action by simply turning around. Undeterred, the woman repeated this process several times, seemingly unbothered by her heavy armor. Each time, Lydia performed the much less elegant action of simply following her.

"...Well, she is acrobatic." Amalia observed, having taken several steps back to watch the proceedings.

"Quite so my Thane." Lydia responded dryly, turning around as the blond performed another roll, "Could you…"

"Ah, right."

Clearing her throat, Amalia looked to the blonde, "Hey, rollsmcgee! FUS RO DAH!"

* * *

Elina, for one, was rather surprised when she was sent flying by the red head's voice. Well, actually, she was not expecting to be sent flying at all. She was expecting to wake up on the Throne of Want, not crash landing on some random guy. Now she got blood all over her chain mail and fur lining, getting that out was not _easy _to do. No siree, not at all. And another thing, rollsmcgee? Really? All she was doing was trying to get a backstab on the brunette, but she kept damnably kept turning. That was really annoying. Hollows weren't supposed to do that, they were supposed to be stupid idiots that wouldn't get any tactic that wasn't bum rushing.

Wait a tic, the ground was coming up soon.

Landing with a loud thump, Elina laid yet again with her back on the ground, staring at the blue sky, mountains marring the landscape.

Wait, blue sky? Mountains? Where was she….

Oh right, in the middle of a fight.

Rolling to the side and picking up her fallen longsword, Elina twirled it slightly as the two approached.

"Easy now, we're not gonna hurt you." The redhead said, holding up her hands in a pleading gesture. Elina rolled her eyes, yeah right. If that was the case, what's with the armor and greatsword? Her companion, who Elina had dubbed "Defender" in her head, held her shield out in front of her. Elina didn't recognize the make, but summed it up to some foreign plenty of those in Drangelic.

"My Thane, don't." Defender warned, eyes wary for any attack. This one was smart, like an invader, wouldn't fall prey to any simple duck and roll tactics, she would have to get creative about this. Maybe a fireball spell would do the trick….

Her left hand glowing, and the feeling of warmth welled up in her palm, she hurled a massive fireball at Defender, charging at the same time.

To her glee, the fireball hit dead on, no doubt causing massive damage. To her dismay, a shield promptly smacked her in the face, causing her to slide across the around, slipping further because of blood on the ground.

Ew.

"My Thane, I must thank you again, for the enchanted gauntlets." Defender said, apparently unhurt.

"No problem." "Thane" answered.

Wait a sec, enchanted? Defender had magic gloves? That was so not fair. Elina wanted magic gloves! Who did she had to kill to get them?

Rising, the undead Hero tired to stand, but a blade pointed right at her face stood in her way.

"Now then, we done?" Thane asked, holding the grip of a two handed greatsword, with the tip pointed right at her face.

Elina blinked, they were fighting. People didn't stop fighting because they wanted to talk. Hell, nobody wanted to talk in Drangelic. Also, she couldn't talk, so there was that…

Undeterred, Elina brushed aside the blade and raised her longsword.

Only to receive a pommel to the gut.

Stumbling backwards and groaning in pain, Elina slowly looked up to her attackers….who, she had to admit, were kinda just defending themselves at this point….

Gripping her longsword both hands, Elina breathed in and out, regaining her stamina as Defender stood in front of Thane. Ah-ha, a duo fight? So individually they should be weak enough for her to take on, she just had to separate them...

"My Thane, she's not listening to anything you say, we should leave." Defender suggested to Thane.

"You think?" Thane responded, looking at Elina with a somewhat disappointed glance, "If you say so…."

Just like that, the two sheathed their weapons and started walking away.

Wait, what?

"We're just gonna leave now….seeya!" Thane said, waving her hand as they walked away.

Defender didn't even look at her.

Elina stood there, dumbfounded. What...you don't just leave! Not like that! There was an order to these things! You stood and fought no matter what happened! Sure, running away to heal was totally legit, but you stayed in the same area, more or less!

Watching the two walk away, Elina just….stood there, not doing anything else. After a bit, she walked over to where her helmet lay and looked it over. Good, no dents, she didn't have the blacksmith around to fix it. Or a bonfire, that too.

Speaking of, where was she? It was actually kinda cold around here, not, misty cold like the Shaded Woods, but cold cold. Like she was exploring the Dragon Aerie, windy as all hell and freezing.

Setting the helmet on her head, Elina sheathed her longsword and looked around. Well, at least she had something to do.

* * *

On the road northeast of Whiterun, two brothers, Vilkas and Farkas, long time members of The Companions and secretly werewolves, trekked back home to Jorrvaskr. Having just recently rescued a citizen of Whiterun the two would feel rather proud of themselves.

Would feel, that is, if that person wasn't Nazeem.

"Do you two get to the Cloud District very often? Oh, what am I saying, of course you don't."

"We know, you said that the last fifteen times." Vilkas groaned, placing a hand over his eyes. Ugh, he was starting to understand why The Harbinger kept beating him up, his smug attitude was just…

"Hey Vilkas." Farkas spoke up, "Looks like your crush is here."

"What? What are you…"

Looking up, Vilkas saw two people walking on the road in front of them. One of them, dressed in armor and with the march of a warrior about her, walked forward fearlessly. Her gait speaking of countless victories untold, cold steel soaked in blood and sinew. Her eyes never once wavering from the path she took. The one who stole his heart without even trying. Lydia.

Oh, and the Harbinger was there too. That was nice.

Farkas, next to him, just smirked and waved his hand at the two.

When they got close, the four exchanged greetings. Of course, "greetings" meant Farkas apologized again for smacking Amalia over the head, who in turn just tried to smile and reassure him it wasn't his fault. While Vilkas tired to start up a conversation with Lydia, only to be completely ignored.

Well, at least he wasn't the only one being ignored. Naazem wasn't even looked at the entire time.

Clearing his throat, Vilkas looked to Amalia, "So, Harbinger, when are you returning to Jorrvaskr? There are some things you need to attend to..."

Amalia rolled her eyes, "Vilkas, how many times do I gotta tell you? I don't want to be the Harbinger, why not you or Farkas?"

"Because, it's what Koldak wished." Vilkas responded.

This was how most of their conversations went, Vilkas would try to get Amalia to take responsibility of being the Harbringer, Amalia would sidestep the issue with quick wordplay or simply not being there. But now, on the road, maybe he might hold some advantage on this.

"That aside," Or not, as Farkas spoke up, "You do know you're being followed, right?" He asked, glancing at a nearby rock, a far distance away.

Just like that, both Amalia and Lydia took on annoyed looks.

"We know." Amalia said.

"She's been following us for some time now." Lydia groaned.

"She?" Vilkas asked.

"Yep, it's a girl. Blond hair, green eyes, all that." Amalia nodded, "Doesn't talk a lot though."

Lydia rolled her eyes, "My Thane, she hasn't talked at all."

"Exactly!"

"Do you know why she's following you?" Vilkas asked, spying a plume poking out of the rock.

"No idea, just fell out of the sky and started attacking. Didn't really do much, but she likes to roll a lot." Amalia said.

"Roll? What do you mean by that?" Vilkas asked.

"Roll. Like, do a bunch of combat rolls without throwing up." Amalia explained, "Don't really know what to do with her though. I think she might be a little lost in the head."

"You said she attacked you, any idea why?" Farkas spoke up.

"Not really. I mean, she accepted my help up, but when she saw Lydia approach with her weapons drawn, she storta flipped out." Amalia said.

"Hmm, maybe she has some form of trauma, perhaps seeing Housecarl Lydia's sword and shield triggered some kind of natural reaction." Vilkas guessed.

"Like, a bad memory or something?" Amalia guessed.

"Possibly."

"Well, anyway. I don't want to go back to Whiterun with her following us. I'm afraid that she'll flip out or something when she get's close to someone." Amalia said, crossing her arms, "Hey, could you guys take her to Jorrvaskr and keep her there till we get back? I got a few errands to run." She asked.

"What? I thought you said that you didn't want her going to Whiterun." Vilkas returned.

"Well, yeah, but I don't want her wandering around, she doesn't seem a bad person, but I really can't think of anything to do with her." Amalia shrugged, "Could you? Please? As a request from your Harbinger?" Amalia pleaded, turning on the doe factor.

"No." Vilkas flatly responded.

Amalia glared, the Dovahkiin gently leaned towards Vilkas and whispered, "If you do, I'll bring Lydia by more often."

"I don't…"

"And, actually stay in Jorrvaskr for a while. Do some of the paperwork, keep the guys in line, that kind of stuff…."

Vilkas blinked, then slowly nodded, "Very well, come on Farkas." He said, starting to walk again.

"Very well." His younger brother nodded, following him.

"My Thane? What did you say to him?" Lydia asked, having not caught the hushed conversation.

"Oh you know, women have their ways." Amalia replied, placing her hands behind her head and walking forward.

"My Thane, you do realize I'm a woman as well, right?" Lydia asked skeptically, following her.

"Not if you keep missing Vilkas's attempts to flirt…." Amalia muttered to herself.

"What was that my Thane?"

"Nothing!"

* * *

Elina was somewhat surprised when two men, one wearing wolf like armor, the other dressed in heavy steel, both of them looking like someone had decided to punch them in the face when they were kids, had suddenly came around and grabbed her by the arms, dragging her across the road.

"Easy there lass, if you are a lass that is." One of them, the one with makeup over his eyes and wolf armor.

"Just taking you back to Jorrvaskr." The other one said, who Elina quickly dubbed "shoulder plates" in her mind.

She struggled, of course. As befitting someone who died over and over and didn't give up once. Shook her arms and tried to break free. But for the undead life of her, those two didn't bugle! They were just as strong as those old knights in Heides's Tower of Flame! Even when wearing plate armor, those two didn't seem bothered by it at all.

It wouldn't be so bad, but this really annoying guy kept sneering at her! Also kept talking about something called a "Cloud District" or something. Honestly, Elina just wanted to tear his head off by the fifth one. But noo, her arms were stuck, and she couldn't get good footing! Stupid wolf faced bastards.

By the time they got to this large hill, Elina had settled for just waiting till they let her go, then make a break for it. They had to let her go sometime, so when they did….

"Hail Companion." A new voice greeted.

"Hello Gary, how's the knee?" "Companion" returned.

"Good, damn Giants. Wife was real worried about it." Gary answered, "Who's this?"

"Ah….The-" "Companion"

"Dragonborn. Say no more." Gary returned, apparently understanding everything. Inside her helmet, Elina narrowed her eyes. Dragonborn? What the hell was that? Did somebody get a dragon pregant? Or did a dragon get somebody….Oh gross.

Actually letting out a moan at the thought, (Moans, groans, shrieks and screams were about the limit of her vocal range), Elina let herself be dragged through the streets. On the plus side, mister "Cloud District" was gone. So there was that.

After being hauled like luggage through a town she didn't recall, (to be fair, her memory was shit in anything not related to Drangleic.) They came up to a large building that, which, after straining her neck, kinda looked like a large boat.

Coming through a set of doors, Elina was unceremoniously dumped like a sack of potatoes. Reacting quickly, Elina quickly went for her longsword...only to gasp empty air.

"Looking for this?" "Companion" said, drawing her attention to the one handed longsword she usually had on her.

Glaring at him through her helmet, Elina rose to her feet, prepared to defend herself by any means necessa-

"Here." With a causal toss, the longsword was in the air, giving Elina ample time to catch it and stare at it, dumbfounded.

"Wouldn't want you to go around unarmed in that suit of armor. Might give people the wrong idea." Companion said, shrugging, "Name's Vilkas by the way. Little brother here is Farkas, and you stand in the halls of Jorrvaskr, home of the Companions."

Elina looked around, Jorrvaskr, as he called it, was a large, almost homey place. In the center was a long table surrounding a fire-pit. On the table was all sorts of food and wine, chicken, venison, all kinds of meat. Elina couldn't remember the last time she actually ate _something. _Not estus flask, not green blossom, not those Divine Blessings. Actual, real, food. But...did she even _need _to eat? She couldn't remember if Undead needed to eat or not. If not, screw that, there was no way that she was letting this chance pass her up. Even if she had to fight her way there….but if they didn't, then maybe they weren't so bad….

"Oh, Vilkas. Whose this, a new whelp?" A new lady appeared, with red hair and face paint over her eyes. And wearing armor that was only _slightly _more covering than a desert sorceress.

"Hello to you too Aela." Vilkas responded, crossing his arms, "As for your question, no. The Harbinger asked us to take care of this lass for the time being."

"Lass?" "Needs more armor" looked to Elina, "Well, always nice to see another strong woman in Skyrim."

Elina looked to her. Skyrim? What the hell was that? Some kind of pastry?

"Anyway Lass, why don't you take that helmet off? Let us get a good look at your face."

Elina glanced at him, before causally shrugging her shoulders, as if saying, "Eh, why not?" Reaching upwards, Elina lifted the Faaram helmet off, letting her short blond hair out and blinking.

"There we go, much better. Nice to be able to see clearly now eh lass?" Vilkas said, "Why don't you take a look around? Get a bite to eat and whatnot."

Elina felt a smile creep up on her face. Okay, she could grow to like these people.

* * *

"AHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

"Hold still deary. Ria, could you please keep her still?"

"I'm trying Tilma, but she's stronger than she looks!"

Elina could _never _like these people. They were monsters, torturous beasts, barbarians. Far worse than anything she had faced in Drangelic! With their buckets of water and soapy things, rubbing against her skin and pulling on her hair! Demons! The lot of them!

"Calm down deary, it's just a bath." Tilma sighed. It had been a day so far, during that time, the newcomer had spent most of it at the dinner table, gobbling down anything that came close, and damn near running the pantry dry. It took the combined might of Vilkas and Farkas to pry her away from the table. The heavy armor didn't help either side all that much. Even more than that, she had to be forcibly stripped of her armor for a bath. Which she protested, vehemently.

It didn't help that there was this one little circle thing in between her shoulder blades that wouldn't come off no matter how hard Tilma scrubbed.

It also didn't help that she apparently couldn't say anything other than "arrrhhh."

Grabbing a nearby bucket, Tilma nodded to Ria, who was holding the newcomer down in the bathtub, which was more or less a large wooden bucket sitting in the backyard of Jorrvaskr at night. Away from prying eyes, and keeping the floors in the hall nice.

Nodding in return, Ria stepped backwards and let go of the blond, who, in turn, tried to make a break for it.

Only for Tilma to dump a large volume of water over her head, stopping her in her tracks.

"There we go, all done, was that so bad-" Ria began, holding out a towel for her. Only for the lass to snatch it out of her hands and make a break for the halls of Jorrvskar….only to run head first into Vilkas, who had just left the building to check up on them. Smacking her head against his armored breastplate, she stumbled backwards, but Vilkas quickly caught her with one arm.

"Ah, there you are, Amalia is here and...why aren't you wearing any clothes?" Vilkas asked, trying not to look down and ignoring the heat coming to his face.

"We just finished giving the dear a bath, Vilkas." Tilma answered, a motherly smile coming to her face, "Speaking of, we should give you one as well."

"Ah, that won't necessary Tilma." Vilkas replied, a faint fear welling up in his stomach. Even as a grown man, Vilkas still hated getting bathed by Tilma. It was utter hell.

"Ah-hem." Ria cleared her throat, drawing their attention, "Her clothes?" She smirked, reminding Vilkas of the not unattractive women being held in his arm..

"Oh right, we'd better get you dressed miss…" Vilkas suddenly felt a heavy pressure come up from behind him. Like a dragon had somehow made it's way in Jorrvaskr.

And the all too familiar sound of a greatswords being unsheathed only proved his fears.

"Viillllkkaass….wanna explain to me why you're holding that lady hostage?"

"Oh no…" Vilkas felt dread. Pure, undiluted dread, "Harbinger, listen, I can expla-"

"Fus ro dah."

Vilkas let out a very unmanly scream and was sent flying.

Meanwhile, Elina, who fell on the ground, but the towel landing magically on her, titled her head, watching Vilkas get out from being a man shaped brick in the wall and started running. Was it always like this in Jorrvaskr? If so, she liked it.

Beats sitting on that lame stone throne anyway.

* * *

**Soo...I bet you're all wondering what's going on. Well, truth be told, this kinda came out of the fact I always liked the Dark Souls series, but never wrote anything for that. Anndd...this was just a concept that wouldn't get out of my head. Sorry. Before anyone asks, no. I'm not putting this in the crossover section. Nope. Uh-uh. Sorry. And as to why...well, it's not really a crossover. Sure, a character from another series is here, but not any real cross between the settings. That would mean more of a headache then I'd like.**

**Okay, on to the Undead Hero, Elina. Truth be told, I actually didn't play a character named Elina in DS. Mostly because my main, a warrior named Tristan, took up that spot, and well, I didn't really feel like playing through it again with more or less the same build. (Which was a almost pure fighter build with a minor in faith and intelligence.) Anyway, I won't always include her in every chapter. Sure, she could show up here and there, but not every one. Anndd, if not enough people like this chapter, I'll just delete it and we can all pretend it never happened. **

**One last thing, about Vilkas's crush on Lydia. Honestly, that was just a spur of the moment, "Hey, since the DB gets all the love, what about the Housecarl? They go on as many adventures as the Dragonborn and are about as tough." Plus, I thought it would be funny. **

**One last thing, since no one really answered, here's who Amalia saw in the last chapter. In order:**

**1. Savos Aren**

**2. Nerien**

**3. Koldak**

**4. Arngeir**

**5. Ulfric Stormcloak**

**6. General Tullius **

**7. Barlgruuf the Greater**

**8. Serena.**

**9. Delphine**

**10. Esbren**

**11. Tsun**

**12. Talos**

**13. The Hero of Kvatch**

**14. Akatosh. **

**Sorry, I know that's a lot. And some of it didn't make any sense, but take it as a sign of things to come...if I get this story that far. ****Anyway, please enjoy! **

**Truly Wandering, Outlaw.**


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